


Let Me Show You Our Story

by TR33G1RL



Category: One Piece
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, One-Sided Attraction, Or Is It?, Temporarily Unrequited Love, author!Apoo, author!Kidd, author!Killer, editor!Hawkins, editor!Law, editor!Penguin, editor!Shachi, editor/author relationship, penguin and shachi are so goddamn tired please help them, trial period kind of thing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2020-05-31 02:41:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 29,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19416811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TR33G1RL/pseuds/TR33G1RL
Summary: (That trope where Character A is enamored with Character B and asks them out. Character B is skeptical or downright dismissive of the idea of them dating, for some reason. However, Character A proposes a trial period and Character B agrees to that. It's weird, at first, but Character A fits into their role so easily it's hard for Character B to not fall in love.This is that, but with a twist.)Scratchmen Apoo is a writer with a crush on his editor, Basil Hawkins. He's not quiet about it, either. He's asked Hawkins out five times now, and has been swiftly rejected each time. Today, he's asking him out again, but this time he has a plan. Since he's just published his latest book, he's decided he's going to try something new; he's writing a love story. The catch? He's basing the main characters off of himself and Hawkins, and he's even going to convince Hawkins to date him for it. How? He has a plan. A stupidly brilliant plan.





	1. Day 0

“You should go out with me."

Basil Hawkins looks up from his laptop to fix the man across from him with an exasperated gaze from those maroon eyes. “My answer remains the same as it was the first time, Scratchmen. I don’t understand why you keep asking.” Hawkins sighs tiredly as he looks back down at the laptop, looking over the final draft of the writer’s book. There’s a pause in the air between them before Hawkins looks back up at the author. “This looks-”

“Why not?” Scratchmen Apoo asks, an unusually serious look on his face. However, while the downturn of his lips is stoic, solemn, his eyes are… disappointed. Those dark brown eyes look dejected, and that’s not a look that belongs there. It’s _wrong_ and Hawkins has to look away. He can’t hold his gaze.

Hawkins shakes his head as he looks at the screen of his laptop, eyes scanning for any spelling errors he may have missed the first couple of times of reading. “There are many reasons, Scratchmen. I’m sure you know that.”

The taller man crosses his arms as he watches his editor go over the same passage for the third time that hour. “Do I? Because I don’t think I do.” His tone is more terse than sad. He shakes his head as he uncrosses his arms long enough to take a long drink from his mug of coffee with too much cream. He watches the blonde man over the rim of his cup, waiting for Hawkins’ answer impatiently.

Hawkins rolls his eyes as he glances up at Apoo for just a split second before his eyes return back to the white lettering on the black screen. He sighs, a long-suffering exhale of air. “Well, first of all, we don’t get along-” A loud, sharp, disbelieving snort cuts off the editor’s words and Hawkins looks up at the other man in surprise. “What?” He asks, eyebrows drawing in confusion and the straight line of his mouth twitching down for just a second.

Apoo laughs as he shakes his head dismissively. “Apapapa!‘We don’t get along?’ Don’t make me laugh!” His shoulders bounce with laughter and he has to set his mug down to keep from spilling its contents. “You outright denied the offers to edit the past four authors before me. Then I walk into your company, have one conversation with you, and the next thing I know, we’re exchanging phone numbers and setting up our first meeting. Just who do you think you’re kidding, Hawkins? You at least _like_ me. And I _clearly_ more than ‘like’ you.”

“Well, that’s obvious,” Hawkins mutters under his breath as he deletes some unnecessary punctuation. “But being compatible professionally isn’t the same as being compatible romantically.”

The taller man rolls his eyes as he watches his love interest work. “No shit. But it’s pretty obvious that we get along outside of work, too.” Apoo points out. “I have your order memorized for three different coffee shops, four different bakeries, and at least six different take-out places,” He says as he lists the reasons off on their fingers. “I know your favorite books, movies and podcasts. I know that you have three tarot decks and you read them every morning. I read your poetry-”

Hawkins look up, eyes slightly wider in surprise and worry. “You read my poetry?”

“And I follow your blog. I even have the notifications turned on!”

“You follow my blog?”

“And I know-”

“Scratchmen.”

The author halts in his rambling to look up at Hawkins. “Yeah? What’s up?”

The blonde man closes his eyes and draws in a deep breath to calm himself before asking, “So you have read my poems?” He opens his eyes to look Apoo in the eyes as he speaks, trying to decipher if the author is playing a prank on him. 

Apoo nods easily, and Hawkins nearly groans when he finds only truthfulness in his eyes. “The ones you post to your blog? Yeah, of course. They’re really good, too. I don’t know why you haven’t published anything yet-”

“And you follow my blog?” Hawkins interrupts. 

“Well, duh.” The author scoffs and nods before finishing the rest of his drink. It’s only because Apoo knows him so well that he can spot the way the blonde’s cheeks warm over. The light pink that dusts over Hawkins’ cheeks is charming and it highlights the deep red of his eyes, and Apoo finds that he can’t be mad at Hawkins for rejecting him again. The editor is simply too beautiful. But that doesn’t mean that Apoo is giving up on him just yet. He has a gut feeling that Hawkins isn’t showing him all the cards he’s playing with, and he’s got a plan to get Hawkins to show his hand.

The shorter man groans softly as his elegant fingers come up to massage at his temples. He’s getting a headache, and desperately wants a cup of ginger tea with lemon, some headphones, a few calming podcasts, and a long nap. He looks up at Apoo, his eyes as deadpan as ever, if not a bit more tired than usual. “Why?” He asks, his already deep voice growing slightly rough with exasperation.

Apoo looks at him expectantly, one eyebrow cocked upwards as his lips twitch upwards. “Why do you think?” He retorts, one question in turn for another. He leans back in his chair and taps his fingers against the side of his empty mug in a mellow rhythm as he watches Hawkins’ face for a reaction. 

A low sigh falls from Hawkins’ thin, regal lips as his eyes fall back to his laptop. “How did you even find my blog?”

Apoo waves his hand nonchalantly in the air. “That’s a story for another day. And don’t try to change the subject! Right now, we’re talking about why you won’t go on a date with me,” Apoo says, a playful sternness in his words. Huh. He’s kinda sick of Hawkins looking at that laptop instead of at him. Apoo leans forward and reaches across the table to push the top of the laptop down until it’s completely closed. He smiles at Hawkins as the computer’s fans grow quiet, since they no longer need to work.

Crimson eyes follow the wordless movements before they slowly move up to Apoo’s face. They take in the proud grin and the smug gleam in Apoo’s eyes. “Was that really necessary?” Hawkins asks with a tired voice.

Apoo shrugs, still beaming and proud of his actions. “I thought so. Now why won’t you go on a date with me?” He asks, leaning back in his chair again. 

“Scratchmen, I don’t do relationships with people I work with,” Hawkins says with a growing irritation in his voice. “Actually, I don’t think I want to talk about this anymore.” The shorter man stands up, picking his laptop up and sliding it into his messenger bag. “Your book is ready to be sent to the publishers. We’ll meet again in a month to start your next-”

“Wait!” Apoo quickly stands up, grabbing his own laptop and tossing it in his carrying case. He steps in front of the blonde man before Hawkins can walk to the door. “Just listen to me for a second.” He requests, though he’s trying not to sound like he’s pleading with his editor.

Hawkins sighs again, looking up at Apoo with that beautifully calm, cool and collected expression. “What is it now, Scratchmen? I really don’t feel like talking about this anymore. It’s giving me a headache. _You_ are giving me a headache.”

“Two months.” Apoo says quickly. He knows those two words together don’t make sense, and he hopes that his frantic tone combined with the strange statement will confuse Hawkins enough to make him interested in the conversation. He watches avidly as pale eyebrows draw together and his lips purse in a frown. Apoo mentally rejoices. Hawkins is at least thinking about staying to listen to what he has to say.

“‘Two months?’ What are you talking about?” Hawkins asks. The irritation in his voice is gone, now replaced with confusion and mild interest. He crosses his arms across his chest, his leather jacket rustling with the movement.

Apoo takes a deep breath before he elaborates on his strange words. “I’m going to try writing a romance story. I know it’s a change of pace, but it’s something I really, but I want to try. It’ll still be a fantasy story, but I want to try adding a romantic aspect.”

“Romance…? That’s a turn from your usual style… Still, I think you could do it,” The editor murmurs under his breath. (Apoo loves how Hawkins thinks out loud.) Hawkins waits for a moment for Apoo to continue. When the taller man doesn’t, Hawkins uncrosses his arms and gestures with his hand for Apoo to continue. “And? Go on.”

“The thing is,” Apoo starts as a faint blush begins to brush across his cheekbones, “I haven’t been in a relationship in a while. And, well, I figured since I’m really into you, the best solution to both of our situations would be… Well, a trial period, so to speak.” Apoo finishes. He knows it’s a good solution, but he still feels his heart beating madly against his ribs. “It would give me a chance to write a convincing relationship and it would give you the chance to see what being in a relationship with me would be like.”

Hawkins blinks slowly, unimpressed by the idea. “That doesn’t sound-”

“It would only be for two months, I swear.” Apoo promises quickly, trying to save the situation before Hawkins gets his mind set on responding negatively. “After two months, if it isn’t working, we can’t quit everything. I’ll toss whatever I have of the book and we can pretend it never happened.”

Hawkins opens his mouth to speak, but closes it again. His eyebrows draw together in concentration as he tries to think over the situation. Apoo could nearly shout in joy. Hawkins is actually thinking about it! Hawkins shifts his weight from foot to foot before looking back up at Apoo again. He draws his lower lip between his teeth before releasing it as he asks, “Just two months?”

Apoo nods eagerly. “Just two months, no more, no less. Unless… Unless, at the end, you want there to be more.” He adds, trying to convince his shaky smile to even out into something more steady and confident.

A soft scoff meets his words. “Doubtful,” Hawkins mutters sharply. He adjusts the strap of his bag on his shoulder as he speaks more clearly. “Fine. If you’re so insistent. Text me when you want to go out or whatever else you have in mind.” Hawkins makes to step past Apoo, but the tan male puts a hand on his shoulder to hold him back.

“Wait. We need to seal the deal,” Apoo chirps with a slightly more confident grin. When the blonde man turns to ask him what that means, Apoo swoops down and presses a soft, gentle kiss to Hawkins’ cheek. He holds still for just a moment, enjoying the warmth of Hawkins’ skin against his lips, before he pulls back to beam at the shorter man as Apoo walks towards the door. “There! Now it’s a deal! Apapa!” He laughs boisterously as he leaves Hawkins standing by their table, shaking his head and rolling his eyes.

“Foolish,” He mumbles under his breath, though his cheeks were flushing a dark shade of pink. The thing is, he isn’t sure which of them he’s calling foolish. Maybe Scratchmen, for his stupid plan. Maybe himself, for agreeing to it.


	2. Day 1 Part 1

A soft but chime is the sound Hawkins wakes up to and it causes him to sigh. Gods, Apoo just sent his book to the publisher! It’s Hawkins’ first real day off in months! Does Apoo really need him _today?_ Can’t whatever he needs wait until tomorrow?

But, then again, Hawkins is supposed to encourage Apoo to write. And, though he’s still too tired to remember much of the day prior, Hawkins remembers the writer saying something about trying a new type of story. Hawkins also remembers thinking that whatever this new genre was would be interesting and a big challenge for Apoo, and Apoo always goes above and beyond when challenged.

Another chime from his phone draws a groan from Hawkins’ throat as he pushes his palms against his eyes, trying to rub the colored spots from his vision. Can Apoo be patient just for a second while Hawkins wakes up? He sits up, his sheets falling down his chest to pool around his hips as he blinks blearily. He picks up his phone when he hears a third notification noise and scoffs to himself when he sees that the clock reads that it’s hardly past six in the morning. Really, why is Apoo bothering him so early? Usually it’s Hawkins that wakes up first, and he wakes up around seven-thirty.

With another sigh, the blonde man unlocks his screen and opens the texts, reading over them with foggy vision as he reaches for his glasses.

**[Text from: Scratchmen Apoo]:** morning babe <3333

**[Text from: Scratchmen Apoo]:** can we meet up 4 a while? I need ur help w/ developing characters

**[Text from: Scratchmen Apoo]:** and im super excited 4 the 1st day of our trial period!

Oh.

Oh _fuck._

That’s right.

They’re ‘dating’ now. And Hawkins is just _letting_ that happen. Hell, more than that; he fucking _agreed_ to this!

Hawkins’ jaw clenches and his eyebrows furrow as he watches three dots appear on the screen, the signal that Apoo is typing again.

**[Text from: Scratchmen Apoo]:** babe? u up?

**[Text from: Scratchmen Apoo]:** o shit i didnt realize how early it is

**[Text from: Scratchmen Apoo]:** sorry if i woke u up!

**[Text from: Scratchmen Apoo]:** u can just go back to bed

Again with that pet name! Just what the hell kind of game does Apoo think he’s playing? Hawkins forces himself to draw in a slow breath to calm himself before he responds.

**[Text to: Scratchmen Apoo]:** I’m already awake. I can come over now. I also think we need to discuss the terms and conditions of our “relationship.”

The blonde man turns his phone off and sets it down on his bed as he pushes his covers off and gets to his feet. With elegant, quiet footsteps, Hawkins pads over to his closet and pulls open the door with a yawn. Another chime sounds from his phone just as Hawkins pulls out a pair of dark pants and a pale button-up shirt, and the editor rolls his eyes. Apoo has no patience whatsoever, he decides as he hears another message alert go off.

He strips off his sleep clothes and works on pulling on his pants before he makes his way back over to his bed, shirt in hand, to check his phone. Of course, even as he checks the messages, Apoo is typing again.

**[Text from: Scratchmen Apoo]:** did i wake u up?

**[Text from: Scratchmen Apoo]:** shit babe im sorry

Hawkins rolls his eyes as he reads. Seriously, how is Apoo such a talented writer, but when it comes to nicknames for his ‘significant other,’ he can’t think of something more original than “babe?” Finally, Apoo finishes typing and send his next text.

**[Text from: Scratchmen Apoo]:** and what do u mean ‘terms and conditions of our relationship?’ do u want to call it off already?

The question catches Hawkins off guard because, well, he hadn’t even thought of ending their relationship yet. That hadn’t even crossed his mind as being a viable option. Hawkins wonders why he didn’t even think of that. He’ll have to ask his cards about that later…

**[Text to: Scratchmen Apoo]:** You did wake me. And I specifically want to address how we will display our ‘affections’ towards each other, especially physically and verbally.

While he waits for a response, Hawkins pulls on his shirt and nimble fingers do up the buttons. With a resigned sigh, he reaches over to his nightstand to grab his wire glasses. It’s too early and his eyes hurt too much for him to attempt to put in his contacts. Apoo is just going to have to deal with that.

**[Text from: Scratchmen Apoo]:** damn, sorry! and what do you mean? is something wrong?

Hawkins types out a few messages, but deletes them after deeming all of them incapable of conveying the message he wants to get across. Instead, he decides that he'll just tell Apoo what he wants to say in person.

**[Text to: Scratchmen Apoo]:** I will tell you when I get to your apartment. Should I stop and grab us coffee on my way?

Hawkins could _really_ use some caffeine right now, given how early it is. He checks the weather outside before deciding that he doesn't need a jacket, but he grabs a hairband just in case it's windy. Just as he's sliding his laptop and tarot decks into his messenger bag, his phone goes off again. Hawkins slides the bag over his shoulder as he picks up his phone and his keys. He reads the text just as he walks out of the door to the parking lot of his apartment complex.

**[Text from: Scratchmen Apoo]:** nah, im already grabbing some. just meet me back @ my place, k?

**[Text to: Scratchmen Apoo]:** I will see you there.

**[Text from: Scratchmen Apoo]:** sounds good, hawkie!

**[Text to: Scratchmen Apoo]:** Never call me that again.

**[Text from: Scratchmen Apoo]:** yeah, that felt weird

  
  


Hawkins arrives at Apoo's apartment just fifteen minutes later, at only 6:37 in the morning. Yes, he's still irritated by how early Apoo woke him up. He only knocks on the door once, a single rap of his knuckles against the heavy wooden surface, before the door is quickly pulled open. Hawkins blinks in surprise, his hand frozen in mid-knock. Usually it takes a few knocks for Apoo to hear Hawkins over his loud music that he usually blares through his headphones. Hawkins quickly regains himself and lets his arm fall back to his side as the taller man beams at him. "Scratchmen," He greets the writer quietly and with a small nod of his head.

Apoo doesn't seem to notice the coolness in his tone and immediately wraps his arms around Hawkins waist so he can pull him in for a hug. "Hey~ Good morning, sweetheart," Apoo says with a cheerful chirp. Hawkins notices that his voice is still rough and scratchy from sleep, and it sounds rather pleasing like that.

Hawkins doesn't return the hug so much as he awkwardly pats Apoo on the arm. "Yes, good morning to you, as well." Hawkins' voice is stiff and tense as he tries to move back from Apoo's grip. He's never hugged the author before, and to Hawkins, it feels quite strange to start doing so now.

However, Apoo holds fast to the editor even as he pulls back just enough that Hawkins can see him roll his eyes. "Oh, c'mon, Hawkins! Just one hug! You've gotta give our relationship at least _some_ effort!” Apoo says, and Hawkins can swear that the writer is grinning smugly as he tightens his arms around his midsection.

“You are insufferable,” Hawkins quietly murmurs as he rolls his eyes. But he does raise his arms and loosely wrap them around Apoo’s neck. Given the difference in their heights, he has to push himself up onto his toes to be able to reach. However, despite the strain in his muscles at having to reach so high and Apoo’s warm breath against his shoulder, this embrace isn’t unpleasant. If anything, the way Apoo’s arms fit around Hawkins’ body and the heat his body radiates are nice, and Hawkins can’t say he minds the situation too much. Though he can't say his pride enjoys it too much.

"'Insufferable,' sure, but also your _boyfriend~_ Apapa!" Apoo laughs cheerfully and he sounds so _happy_ that Hawkins feels his lips twitch up at the corners just for only a second before he forces them to return to their normal, neutral position. Thankfully, since Hawkins' chin is resting on his shoulder, Apoo doesn't see his faint smile.

The arms around Hawkins' waist go tighter for just a second before Apoo finally lets go of the blonde and pulls back. "Alright, alright, I'll stop bugging you now. At least, I won't hug you anymore. Can't say I'll stop bugging you in general, though," Apoo laughs again as he steps aside and gestures for Hawkins to come in to his apartment. "Come on in! I've got our stuff set up already. You brought your laptop, right?" He asks, looking back at his editor as he leads Hawkins into his living room.

A raised eyebrow and a deadpan gaze meet Apoo's question as Hawkins pointedly adjusts the strap of his messenger bag. "Why would I have not?" He asks, slightly amused. It appears that Apoo is more nervous about their 'trial period' than Hawkins thought he would be. How… charming, he supposes. Though that is a bit strange, given that Apoo is the one to suggest this little scenario.

Apoo flushes as he raises a hand to rub the back of his neck sheepishly. "I… don't really know. Just felt like I should ask, I guess. But honestly it was a pretty stupid question." Apoo chuckles softly as he glances back at Hawkins nervously.

To Apoo's surprise, Hawkins doesn't scoff or roll his eyes like the author thinks he will. Instead, Hawkins gives a small chuckle, just barely loud enough for Apoo to hear. "You're nervous, Scratchmen. You can calm down, I'm not going to cut off our 'trial period' this early."

"Oh! That's good, that's good," Apoo replies with a stutter as his flush darkens further. He chuckles softly, clearly still nervous, but his lips pull up into a giddy smile nonetheless. "'Cause I was worried you'd want to call it off when you texted me this morning," Apoo admits as he takes a seat on the couch.

Hawkins' blonde hair shifts slightly as he shakes his head in the negative. "No, I'm still alright with our deal, though it is mainly because I'm very curious as to see how well you write romance." Hawkins states bluntly as he takes a seat next to Apoo. He decides to sit a little closer than he usually does, allowing their knees to just barely brush. He feels Apoo jolt a bit at the uncommon physical contact and Hawkins sets his bag on the couch next to him so he can pull out his laptop.

"I guess that's fair." Apoo chuckles nervously as he feels Hawkins' leg rub against his own because of the way Hawkins is shifting. Apoo watches as Hawkins pulls out his laptop and sets it on his lap, turning it on as he leans forward to grab his drink. His eyes are particularly drawn to the blonde's lips as Hawkins takes a sip of the still hot beverage. Goddammit, why is Hawkins so attractive? Apoo shakes his head as he pulls his own laptop out and turns it on.

The editor swallows the green tea as he leans back against the back of the couch and quickly types in the password to unlock it. He doesn't bother trying to hide the keys he types from Apoo; the other man already knows his password, probably even has it memorized in case of emergencies. As he opens three new tabs (an online document for notes, a search engine for research, and one for playing music), he invites Apoo onto the document and reaches for his earbuds. Usually, he and Apoo do the act of research without much talking. Instead, they listen to music and type to each other on the document. However, just as Hawkins goes to put in his earbuds, he feels a careful hand on his wrist. He turns to look at Apoo with a curious expression.

"I was just thinking we could, you know, keep our earbuds and headphones off for today? I just think it might be easier to communicate that way. We can listen to your music, if you want," Apoo suggests with a crooked, shaky smile.

Hawkins blinks before nodding subtly. "That does sound much easier. Good idea, Scratchmen." He unplugs his earbuds, but pauses as he turns his head to look at the taller man. "Are you sure you want to listen to my music? I wouldn't mind listening to yours, so long as you keep it at a reasonable volume. I do enjoy your music, when you keep it at a certain decibel."

Again, Apoo nervously rubs the back of his neck as his cheeks dye a soft shade. "You sure? I mean, I really don't mind listening to your music, either…"

"I'm sure." Hawkins nods as he closes the tab he has open for music. "Go ahead and turn it on so we can start our research."

_"Our_ research?" The taller man laughs softly as he turns on one of his slower acoustic songs for them to listen to. "You know, you're more involved than most editors I've worked with. Why is that?" His question is innocent on the surface, but there's a deeper meaning under his words. This question has been burning at his mind for months - years, even - and now is the perfect time to ask.

After a moment of consideration, Hawkins realizes that yes, he _is_ more involved in Apoo's work than he has seen other editors be with writers. Hm. He wonders when that started happening. He simply shrugs as he opens a few more tabs for research. "I suppose that, since you are my only client at the moment, I feel like I should dedicate as much time as possible to you. After all, the reason you're my only client is because your books are so successful, and if I can help with anything, I believe I should." Hawkins explains as he sees Apoo typing in the document already. He reads over the few paragraphs of basic information that Apoo has for the story as he waits for the author to respond.

"I guess that's fair," Apoo replies, though he's trying to figure out exactly what Hawkins is saying. He can't really make heads or tails of it, so he jokingly replies, "So you're saying that you only need me? Apapapa!"

Hawkins rolls his eyes, eyes not looking away from the screen for even a moment. "I suppose so," he says without a hint of sarcasm as he adds a few comments to the document.

Abruptly, Apoo chokes on his laughter and he has to grab his laptop to keep it from falling onto the ground. He coughs and blushes a vivid red as he tries to regain his senses. It takes a few moments before he's able to regain himself enough to sit up straight and clear his throat, but even after all of that, he can't get the wide, bright grin off his face. "You know, I kinda like it when you say you need me," Apoo chirps giddily as he watches Hawkins go over the final paragraph.

The shorter of the two nods to himself as he finishes the last sentence before he looks at Apoo with the faintest hint of a smirk. "Oh, I bet you do." He chuckles as Apoo's face turns a darker red and he begins stuttering over his words again. "And right now, I need you to explain a few things about the plot of your story. So the love interest is a prince?"

Apoo gathers himself enough to nod quickly before answering, "Yes, he's an elven prince, the only son of the current ruler. But he's not exactly a 'stay home, do what your told' type and he wants to go explore the world," Apoo explains. He talks with his hands, making strange gestures with each word. However, as he talks, he slyly manages to wrap his arm around the editor's shoulders, his hand giving a gentle squeeze to Hawkins' upper arm.

Hawkins nods along as he listens, but a slightly disapproving look crosses over his face as the character is explained to him. "An elven prince, the only heir to the throne? That concept is a bit played out these days. I believe we can think of something better than _that._ Tell me more about the main character."

Apoo cheers inwardly at how Hawkins doesn't even seem to notice the arm around him. He keeps it in its spot. "That's what I thought you'd say. Here, I'll post the other backstory I thought of," Apoo says as he copied and pasted his other idea into the document. "As for the main character, he's a famous mercenary and bard from the human kingdom who is sent by the king to kill the prince. Of course, that's only if we go with the character being a prince," Apoo explains with a wave of his free hand and a glance out of his peripherals at his own love interest. He's surprised; how hasn't Hawkins figured out that these characters are based off of the two of them?

"We won't be going with that story. It's far too played out. However, I do like the idea of the main character being a mercenary and bard," Hawkins nods approvingly as he looks up at the author with a gleam in his eyes. "And this second character backstory is much better. An elven oracle who is actually a disgraced warrior and strategist that has taken to telling fortunes in taverns?" His eyebrows raise a bit in pleased approval as he turns to fully look at Apoo. "That's incredibly original. Just how did you come up with that?"

Apoo shrugs nonchalantly, though his grin is absurdly proud; it always feels amazing when he manages to surprise Hawkins like this. "Just an idea I had. So, you like it?" He asks as he tightens his arm around Hawkins shoulders for just a split second. It feels weird to have Hawkins' character not be a prince, but truthfully, Apoo likes this idea much better anyway.

The small smile he receives in return makes his heart stutter for a moment. "I do. It's quite an original and interesting concept. It's perfect for your first love story." Then Hawkins lays a gentle hand on Apoo's mid thigh and gives a gentle squeeze.

The breath in Apoo's throat catches and his eyes go wide as he stares at Hawkins in awe. "Wh-Wha…?"

Hawkins blinks and tilts his head curiously. "Oh, do you not want me to touch you? My apologies, I just thought, since you have your arm around me…" Hawkins begins to retract his hand, but Apoo quickly shakes his head.

"No!" He yelps, but quickly tries to cover up his panic with a calmer voice. "No, I mean, it's fine. I don't mind at all." He shoots the blonde man a wide grin as he gently tightens his arms around Hawkins' shoulders. "I really like it, actually. Though you probably could've guessed that." He laughs softly as he watches Hawkins' reaction.

Hawkins chuckles as his thumb gently rubs over Apoo's thigh. "Well, yes, that's why I'm doing it, Apoo," He says softly, greatly amused by the writer's reaction. "Now tell me more about how the story will start."

Apoo _really_ likes it when Hawkins says his name. But he pushes that thought out of his head as he types out a different story onto their shared document. "Well, you see, they meet at a tavern where the main character drunkenly asks the elven oracle for a reading…"


	3. Day 1 Part 2

Apoo sighs as he clicks out of yet another tab that he opened in hopes of finding a reliable reference, only to find that it had nothing to do with what he was looking up. He lets his head fall back against the back of the couch with groan. "God _dammit."_

Next to him, Hawkins stops typing so he can look over at the novelist with his pierced eyebrow cocked in curiosity. "Something wrong, Apoo?" He asks quietly, just barely audible over the soft music playing from Apoo's laptop. His glasses slip down his nose just a little, though he doesn’t seem to notice. 

A low groan falls from Apoo's lips as he shakes his head. "I just can't find any good sources." His frown only grows as he clicks on another link, only for it to be another dead end. He opens his mouth to say more, but as he does, he catches sight of his editor's glasses slipping down Hawkins' nose. Without a half of a thought or a second to consider what he's doing, Apoo reaches over and carefully pushes Hawkins' glasses back up onto the bridge of his nose. His finger lingers on the dark frame as he blinks, surprised by his own actions. Hawkins doesn't seem fazed by this, and Apoo supposes that it's because he's done this several times before. Despite that, this time feels more intimate that the last dozens of times. The novelist would wonder why that is, but he's smarter than most people give him credit for and he already knows why. Then Apoo notices that Hawkins is watching him with those sharp eyes, and Apoo flushes as he pulls his fingers back with an awkwardly stuttered laugh. He isn't sure what he should say to what he just did and before he can find the words to say, Hawkins is already speaking. 

"Thank you, my dear," comes the words spoken by the quiet, calm voice. Hawkins lets his lips form a soft smile as he raises his hands to cup the author's in his own, holding Apoo's hand like it's a delicate bird rather than a broad palm with calloused fingers. Apoo's cheeks flush a very obvious shade, a vibrant red on his skin, at the tender touch. Their gazes stay locked as Hawkins lowers their hands to his lips and presses a chaste kiss to the back of Apoo's palm. He lets his lips linger for a few moments longer, his warmth washing over Apoo's already too-warm skin, before he pulls back and offers the author that same barely-there grin that Apoo loves so much.

Apoo is slack-jawed as he watches the editor, who gently releases Apoo's hand so it can fall back into his lap. His stuttered chuckles start up again, slightly louder and more awkward this time around. "Whaaaaat… What was that?" He asks with his breath caught in his throat. His own glasses slip down his nose as his eyes dart between Hawkins' face, Hawkins' hands, and his own hand. It still feels hot with the touch, and it faintly tingles. If Apoo thinks doesn't know how to react to his own actions, he sure as _fuck_ doesn't know what to do about Hawkins' damn-near romantic touch.

A low chuckle is pulled from Hawkins' throat by Apoo's response and he shakes his head softly as he turns back to his laptop and begins typing once more. "That is typically called 'affection,' Apoo. It's something that lovers show each other." And the use of that word - 'lovers,' Hawkins says with that lovely voice - nearly makes Apoo choke on air. "Should I be worried that you don't know what it is?" Hawkins asks as his smile pulls into a smirk as he pointedly glances at Apoo out of the corners of his eyes. He's teasing Apoo. That isn't out of the ordinary, but the context is so damn important in this case and it's making Apoo both scared and elated and he has to work to hide it.

"Wh-? I know what affection is!" Apoo claims indignantly as his face flushes an even darker hue in embarrassment. "It's just… Well… I didn't expect you to show P.D.A. so quickly," Apoo confesses with a weak laugh as he rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. Honestly, he didn't expect Hawkins to show him and affection _at all,_ so the amount the editor feels like a whole damn lot and it's probably going to kill the author. Not that Apoo minds. Not in the slightest.

This earns Apoo another glance and chuckle. "Technically," Hawkins says matter-of-factly as he types away, "It's not 'P.D.A.,' since we're not in public." He hears Apoo stutter in response and it draws a bubble of clear, deep laughter from his chest. His smile grows a bit at the edges.

Immediately Apoo leans forward to argue with Hawkins' logic. "That's…!" The author pauses as he thinks about it for a second. With a defeated sigh, Apoo leans back into his previous, relaxed position. "Yeah, I guess you're right about that." He let's his arm drape over the back of the couch again and, much to his surprise, Hawkins takes the gesture as an invitation to scoot closer to the taller man until their sides and thighs are pressed together. The blonde even goes as far as to lay his head on Apoo's shoulder. Apoo blinks a few times as he looks down at his editor before he asks, “Comfortable?”

Hawkins looks up at the author from under his eyelashes and smiles as he nods. Apoo feels his heartbeat move up into his throat. “I happen to be _very_ comfortable, thank you for asking.” He pulls his laptop closer as he begins typing again, adding some information to the history of the elves. 

“No problem, babe,” Apoo replies with false nonchalance as he lets his arm fall from the edge of the couch to fully wrap around Hawkins’ aroulders. He looks over at his own laptop to read what the tarot reader is typing. If he’s honest, he doesn’t really read so much as he skims the information and only manages to pick up something on geography. That's Hawkins, always thinking about the details and filling out the shape of the world. It's why he compliments Apoo so well, really. 

After the editor is done typing, he moves his hand to rest on Apoo’s leg again. He gives Apoo’s thigh a gentle squeeze as he smiles up at the author, and Apoo feels his entire nervous system light up with electricity. “You know,” Apoo says with a sheepish chuckle, “I planned on taking this a bit slower. You’re making it really hard to not be all touchy-feely with you.” Apoo shakes his head before he looks to the side, unable to meet Hawkins’ gaze. “Seriously, I’m only human, Hawkins.”

The blonde man chuckles under his breath and because of their proximity, Apoo can feel the vibrations of it in his own chest. “Am I too affectionate for you? How strange. Here I thought it would be the other way around.” The editor looks back down at his laptop so he can continue typing. “But you shouldn’t worry, Apoo. I simply figure that it will benefit you and your story much more if I portray a point in a relationship where both participants are comfortable with each other. Unless you are averse to that idea?” Hawkins asks as he stops typing and looks up at the author once again, his gaze curious and less cool than Apoo expects it to be.

Quickly, too quickly, Apoo shakes his head in the negative as his eyes go wide. “No!” He winces at how loud and quick the word comes out, like a firework into the calm of the night. “I mean,” He chuckles nervously, “Nah, it’s fine! I kinda like it.” He gives a small squeeze around Hawkins’ shoulders, smiling when the blonde relaxes into the touch. “I really like it, actually. I could _really_ get used to this for the next two months,” Apoo remarks with a wide, sunshine-bright grin. It takes everything in his being to not ruin the mood with a cheeky wink.

“I can’t say that it’s unpleasant,” Hawkins says, quiet but reluctantly amused, as he tries to hold back that small, subtle smile that Apoo has fallen in love with every time he's seen it. He keeps his eyes focused on the screen in front of him so Apoo can’t see his smile. Unfortunately for him, Apoo can see in the reflection of the laptop that Hawkins’ lips are twitching upwards.

Trying to ignore the quickened pace of his heartbeat, Apoo gives an exaggerated gasp as he softly nudges his editor’s shoulder. “Why, Hawkins! Are you saying that you enjoy having me as your boyfriend? This early in our relationship? Why, I’m flattered! Apapapa!” He snickers to himself as he sees Hawkins roll his darkly-linned eyes. _'Beautiful. So beautiful in every damn way,'_ Apoo thinks as his smile grows even more.

Hawkins gently nudges his head against Apoo’s chest with a light scoff. “I’m not saying anything just yet, Apoo, so don’t get all excited.” But the faint smile doesn’t fade from Hawkins’ face. “Now tell me what specifically was frustrating you earlier.”

While Apoo _really_ wants to preen over the fact that Hawkins is having a good time, he doesn’t. He really wants to, but he won’t. Instead, he turns his laptop to face his ‘boyfriend.’ “I’m trying to find a reliable source for tarot card meanings, but every website is different. Is there a reason for that?”

“Ah, yes,” Hawkins nods as he sets his own laptop to the side. “The makers of some decks have different meanings behind their cards than others, and some people who practice divination prefer to find their meanings without the aid of a guide to help them. That’s how I personally chose to practice divination.” Hawkins explains. Apoo thinks that his editor looks beautiful when he’s talking about his passions like this.

When Hawkins looks back to Apoo for a response, the novelist is smiling with such fondness that Hawkins nearly blushes. Apoo’s expression doesn’t change as he asks, “So could we go by your meanings for this story? Maybe for that one black and gold deck you have?” 

Hawkins nods as he carefully gets up. “That sounds agreeable. I’ll go get my grimoire and my deck. Just please be careful with them.”

“I will be,” Apoo assures him quickly with a smile.

“I know,” Hawkins responds with a small grin of his own.


	4. Day 1 Part 3

It isn’t until several hours later that Hawkins decides they’ve done enough research and jotted down enough ideas to qualify this as a successful day. He scrolls through their combined seventeen pages of research and notes with tired eyes before he takes in a deep inhale through his nose and let it pass his lips in a long, weary sigh. His eyes flutter closed for just a moment and his head bows as he takes a moment to gather himself after being so focused for so long. After a few brief seconds of silence amidst the sounds of soft lofi music and Apoo’s fingers on the laptop’s keys, Hawkins opens his eyes again. He looks over at the author and silently takes in his appearance. 

Scratchmen Apoo isn’t what one would call ‘conventionally handsome,’ but he’s not absolutely hideous. If Hawkins is honest, he actually finds Apoo to be an odd type of attractive. He’s a broad figure, strong and tall, even more so than Hawkins himself, which was saying something. And by no small amount, either, with Apoo standing well over eight feet tall and Hawkins just barely under seven feet. It’s for these reasons that Hawkins is thankful that Apoo slouches when he’s relaxed.

Hawkins finds that Apoo is even more… handsome later in the day. Apoo’s once tightly-bound ponytail has become a great deal messier, several long strands pulled loose around his face and his dark eyes are heavy. His lips move as he types out his words, his tired mind needing that extra action to make sure his writing makes sense. Clothes rumpled and expression headstrong-focused despite his growing tiredness, Apoo is the image of an author.

All in all, Apoo is not… _ unattractive _ to Hawkins. Certainly not, though Hawkins won’t admit that openly. (However, his coworkers Trafalgar D. Water Law, Penguin, and Shachi already seem to know about Hawkins’ apparent fondness for strange appearances.)

But now is not the time for such thoughts. After all, if Hawkins were to get caught up in his internal debates about why he finds the novelist so attractive, he would most likely be stuck in his thoughts until the next morning _ at the very least. _ He clears his thoughts and clears his throat in the same moment and waits for the author to respond.

Much to Hawkins surprise, Apoo doesn’t so much as twitch in acknowledgement that he heard the editor. Instead, he keeps mouthing the words he’s typing into their shared document as his hands move rapidly over the keys. “Apoo?” Hawkins asks, his voice deep and rough from not being used in the past hours. Again, the author doesn’t respond, too lost in his words and sentences and ideas to process any outside stimuli.

A low breath of laughter falls from Hawkins’ lips and, unknowing to himself, his expression softens ever so slightly as he watches the writer continue to add on to his story. Apoo is clearly passionate about this project, which Hawkins is pleased by. All of Apoo’s best work has been a result of his intense excitement for a story, and this story is already proving to be one of the best yet. Perhaps it would even warrant an entire series. Then again, that’s all up for Apoo and this current novel to decide.

“Apoo,” The blonde calls out quietly again. And, yet again, there is no response, other than the sound of frantically clacking keys. Hawkins chuckles and shakes his head at the lack of answer he receives. He’s about to repeat the taller man’s name again, but he finds himself curious about what Apoo is typing that’s requiring so much attention. Of course, it’s a shared document, so Hawkins can just look. So, without bothering to call for Apoo’s attention, the editor turns back to his own laptop and scrolls down to find where Apoo was adding on to their document.

_ ‘Of course,’  _ Hawkins thinks to himself as his lips twitches upwards ever so faintly at the corner,  _ ‘He’s already planning out scenes in the notes.’ _ Per usual. Apoo always got random little bits and snippets of scenes that he wants to include in a story and he always writes them down in the notes so he doesn’t forget them. Almost always, they end up being Apoo’s most memorable scenes and the ones that drive fans absolutely wild. Curiously, Hawkins scrolls up two pages to where the first hastily described scene is listed next to a bullet point. 

_ ‘First meeting. Mercenary POV. In the tavern. Mercenary is drunk and sees Oracle from across from room. (Mercenary is at the bar, Oracle is at a table in the back.) Mercenary notes that he can’t see Oracle from under the hood, but he can feel Oracle watching him. Mercenary stumbles - drink in hand - over to Oracle and sits opposite of him. (Mercenary won't see Oracle's face until the second meeting at least.) Mercenary offers to buy Oracle a drink, but Oracle only laughs (chuckles) and takes the drink from Mercenary's hand. He says something along the lines of "you [the Mercenary] don't need any more to drink. Perhaps I should finish this for you." Mercenary agrees with a wordless nod (probably because of the Oracle's beautiful laugh). Mercenary laughs and drunkenly slurs something like, "perhaps you should," before passing out as Oracle laughs again. (Mercenary wakes up the next morning outside of the bar with only a vague memory of someone taking the drink from his hands. He also notices a hooded figure walking past him, and the hooded man chuckle. The man chuckles and Mercenary notes that the laugh is beautiful, which implies to the audience that it’s Oracle. Mercenary is inspired to write a song and has an urge to go back to the tavern.) _

Hawkins nods approvingly to himself as he chuckles. It's a perfect beginning, based on everything they currently have on their characters. Apoo has managed to nail a very  _ not- _ cute-meet that will perfectly set up the love story. It honestly reminds Hawkins of the celebration that Hawkins’ publication company had held in honor of one of Apoo’s first books reaching number four on a notable magazine’s ‘Top Ten Books of the Year’ list. Apoo had been so excited - and so nervous - that he’d gotten wasted within the first three hours of the party. Then he spent the next several hours at Hawkins’ side, telling the blonde that they were going to be a great team and Hawkins’ was really good at editing and he has really cool tattoos and his hair is pretty and hey, why are you taking my drink away?

After a specifically long rant on how Hawkins looked just like an elf, the tarot reader had cut Apoo off with a roll of his eyes as the author draped himself over Hawkins. Hawkins had responded with blunt comments, trying to deter Apoo from any more long-winded talks on his “elven” appearance. However, any input - negative or positive - only seemed to spur Apoo on. It had been honestly very entertaining, though Hawkins had denied that to Law, Penguin and Shachi. At the end of the night, Hawkins had called Apoo a cab and helped the author inside the car. He chuckled when Apoo hit his head on the short roof of the car and told Apoo to call him in the morning. The next day, Apoo had forgotten to call, but had showed up to their meeting anyway.

Hm. Hawkins wonders if it means something that both stories sound so similar. If he weren’t so tired, he’d ask Apoo about it, but it’s really time for Hawkins to be heading home. After all, he has to go into the office tomorrow and explain the new story to the basics of the story of the higher ups.

Scrolling to the bottom of the page to see if Apoo is still typing, Hawkins realizes that the author has come to a halt. He glances at Apoo out of the corner of his eye to see what had brought Apoo’s usual flood of ideas to a sudden stop. What Hawkins finds makes him shake his head and roll his eyes. Sitting up right with his fingers on the mousepad, Apoo has fallen asleep. Hawkins clicks his tongue against his teeth as he reaches out to carefully pick up Apoo’s laptop so it doesn’t fall to the ground. After closing it and setting it on the coffee table, Hawkins leans forward so he can put a hand on Apoo’s shoulder. He gently shakes Apoo as he quietly says, “Apoo, I think we should call it a night.”

The author’s eyes flicker behind his eyelids before he peaks one eye open as he yawns, showing off his piano key teeth. “Hm...? Huh…? Oh, shit, did I fall asleep?” Apoo asks as he removes his glasses with one hand and rubs at his eyes with the other. “Shit. Sorry, babe,” Apoo apologizes with a sheepish sort of tiredness in his voice. His face flushes ever so slightly as he turns to look at Hawkins with a crooked, weary smile. 

“It’s alright,” Hawkins says easily as he watches Apoo, who is watching him right back. “It’s simply getting late, so I think it might be time to call it a day. It’s been very successful, after all.” Hawkins continues as he looks away to turn off his own laptop and slides it into his bag. It takes a second to get everything in its place and zipped up. When he looks back at the author, Apoo has one elbow resting on his knee, his chin in his palm, and he’s openly looking at Hawkins, his eyes tired but a content smile on his lips. The blonde blinks a few times before asking, “Is something wrong, Apoo?”

Slowly, Apoo shakes his head in the negative. “Nah, just thinking about how handsome you are. You look really good right now,” Apoo speaks softly, his usually loud voice tired and quieter than normal. It’s very soft and low and oh so very fond. Ah, yes. That’s the word Hawkins would use to describe Apoo’s gaze on him; fond.

Hawkins’ raises a brow skeptically. “I can’t say I believe you. At this point in the day, my hair is usually tangled and my glass are smudged,” The editor comments bluntly as he continues to pack his stuff.

A low laugh bubbles up from Apoo’s throat. “Well, I’m not saying they aren’t. I’m just saying you still look good like that. You look comfortable, I guess.” Apoo shrugs unabashedly even as his cheeks become pinker. He and Hawkins stand at the same time, the taller easily reaching over to grab Hawkins’ jacket and pass it to the man. The blonde thanks him with a quick nod of his head.

“That might be because I am comfortable. Is that a problem?” Hawkins asks, though he already knows it’s not. He simply feels like asking for the sake of curiosity.

Apoo laughs again, this time the sound is a bit louder and more awake. “That’s never a problem. I always want you to feel comfortable with me,” Apoo says as they walk towards the door of his apartment.

“And I am,” Hawkins responds easily, offering Apoo just the smallest hint of a smile. 

“I’m glad.” Apoo smiles right back at him as they stop in front of the door. “You know…” Apoo starts slowly, nervousness beginning to creep into his voice, “You could sleep here, if you want.”

Hawkins shakes his head. “While I would usually accept your offer, I need to go in early to propose your new book. I’ll be in there most of tomorrow.” Hawkins shouldn’t feel bad about that. He shouldn’t, but he does nonetheless.

“Awww!” Apoo whines as he crosses his arms with an exaggerated pout. “Can I at least text you?” He asks hopefully as he opens the door for the blonde.

“Of course. We’ll most likely need to call a few times during the day anyway.” Hawkins move to step through the door, but as he does, Apoo wraps a hand around his wrist and yelps a quick, ‘Wait!’ Hawkins turns around to see what the commotion was about. “Yes? What’s wrong, Apoo?”

The taller man rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “Would… Would you mind if I told a few people about us?” He asks as his blush crawls up to his ears. 

“That’s fine,” Hawkins says easily and turns to leave, but again, the hand on his wrist stops him. “Yes?” He asks again, this time with a tired sigh. Apoo catches him off guard by pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. The blonde blinks in surprise.

“Sorry, just had to,” Apologizes, but his smile is shameless.

Hawkins sighed and rolled his eyes. “It’s fine. Sleep well, Apoo.”

“You, too!” Apoo calls cheerfully as Hawkins walks towards his car.

  
  
  


Hawkins lays down on his bed with a tired groan. It really has been a long day of research. He rolls onto his bed and plugs his phone in. His eyes catch sight of a recent notification on his phone.

**Scratchmen Apoo is [in a relationship] with Basil Hawkins**

  
_ ‘Fuck,’ _ Hawkins thinks as he turns his phone off and drops it uncerimoniously onto the bed right next to his head.  _ ‘I’m never going to hear about this at work tomorrow. Law’s going to have a godsdamn field day.’ _


	5. Day 2 Part 1

The first thing Hawkins hears when he wakes up is the incessant buzzing of his phone. And it's not from a phone alarm, because Hawkins doesn't set alarms for _every godsdamn minute of all hours of the godsdamn morning!_ So Hawkins picks up his phone, his face already set in a scowl-glare combo, and scrolls through his notifications. 

As Hawkins reads through the most recent notification, one that announces a news article from _The North Blue Daily,_ he realizes why he's receiving so many notifications. _'Scratchmen Apoo, author of The Grand Line series, is officially off the market! The famous writer is apparently dating his editor, Basil…[Read more]'_ The blonde man clicks his tongue against his teeth disapprovingly as he continues to scroll through the bubbles of text from several different applications. He doesn't bother reading most of them, his eyes only needing to catch mentions of his own and Apoo's names to know exactly what each tweet, Instagram dm's, Facebook message, email and text was about. Tired, Hawkins opens his twitter so he can get rid of his alerts. Of course, once he does, he has to scroll through his news feed to see what exactly Apoo's fans are saying.

  


**GrandLineFan1425:** Omg can you believe it?!?! **@ScratchmenApoo** finally found someone!!!! I wonder who this **@BasilHawkins** is…

**Books4days: @GrandLineFan1425** Wait, Basil Hawkins?! As in the poet **@BasilHawkins**?! I follow his blog and he's an amazing writer! Who knew that they know each other!

**WorstGenForever: @GeandLineFan1425 @Books4days** I did! **@BasilHawkins** is actually **@ScratchmenApoo** 's editor! Apparently, they work together very closely to the point that Scratchmen credits some of the best scenes to Basil! 

**DevilFroot:** **@WorstGenForever** OMG YOURE RIGHT! I checked in the books and **@ScratchmenApoo** gives **@BasilHawkins** a shout out at the end of every book! And the one at the end of the last one is super cute!

  


Hawkins pauses. He knows that Apoo has given him a special mention in each book, but he hasn't looked at them after the first book. Luckily for him, he doesn't even have to get up to check the back of Apoo's book, as **@DevilFroot** has included a picture from the back of their own book. It's not a great picture, but Hawkins can still read it.

_'And finally to my wonderful editor who has and will continue to keep me going in all that I do. You really are my muse and my inspiration. I just wish I could be the same to you. You deserve all my thanks and so much more. I just wish I knew how I could ever even come close to repaying you. Hawkins, I may be an author, but I just can't find all the words I need to tell you just how much you mean to me.'_

Oh. That was… very kind of Apoo to write. That certainly wasn't what Hawkins was expecting to read, but it's … not unpleasant. In fact, it makes something warm and soft begin to fill his lungs, something that threatens to choke Hawkins. Luckily, whatever 'warm, fuzzy feelings' that are in the editor's throat are dislodged when he clears his throat and shakes his head. He goes back to looking through his texts. Most of them are from Apoo, all of them some form of 'good morning babe<3' or 'shit i didn't realize people would start buggin u. im soooo sorry! do u want me to tell people not 2 bug u?' Hawkins rolls his eyes as he gets out of bed while he responds to all sixteen of Apoo's texts. 

**[Text from: Basil Hawkins]:** Good morning, love. As for your fans, I'm not sure it would help. Besides, it certainly won't stop the press from beginning to pester me. Just don't say anything and people will begin to lose interest.

Now that the press has been mentioned, he has a headache. Hawkins clicks his phone off and sets it on his bedside table with a heaved sigh and a roll of his eyes. He elegantly slides his legs over the side of his bed as he sits up, his long, tangled hair swaying with the movement. He takes in a deep breath through his nose to calm himself. Holds it in his lungs for five seconds. Then he lets it slide out from between his lips like water in a stream. But his headache is still there, angrily throbbing at his temples and weighing heavy on his tongue. 

If he had the time, Hawkins would take the time to do some deep breathing while massaging his temples and drinking peppermint or ginger tea. However, he does _not_ have the time today, so Hawkins will have to settle for instant coffee and some advil that he'll have to grab on his way out the door. But, at the very least, Hawkins can look forward to coming home at the end of the day to falling asleep tonight and not having to deal with this shit.

With that motivation in mind, Hawkins pushes himself up off the bed so he can stretch his arms over his head and works the kinks out of his back. The relief of the stretch brings a pleased hum from deep in Hawkins' throat and he holds the position for a few more moments before letting his arms fall back to his sides. It helps calm him slightly, but Hawkins is still on edge and very frustrated with the day he's about to have.

But Hawkins knows better than to make assumptions about things he knows nothing about. So, simply so he has an idea of the day he's going to have and what obstacles he's going to face, the editor decides he's going to have, Hawkins walks over to his dresser. His tarot decks sit out of their boxes, looking like they're relaxing in the early morning sunlight. The sight makes Hawkins smile as he picks up the nearest tarot deck, one with a simplistic style and dramatic colors. He takes a deep breath as he picks the cards and feels their energy in his fingertips. Ah, but it feels good to do a reading again. It's been a few days since he's been able to do a reading and it feels so right to have his cards in his hands again.

Long, dexterous fingers shuffle the cards as Hawkins focuses on the subject of his reading, which is how today is going to go. The sounds of the cards rubbing against each other is loud in the quiet of the room, but Hawkins doesn't mind it. It's a rather calming sort of noise to him. Hawkins closes his eyes as he continues to shuffle. He takes a few deep breaths and lets them out slowly. Hawkins' hands stop moving; the deck feels right.

Red eyes open as Hawkins turns over the top card and raises it so he can look at it. Ace of Swords. New ideas, fortitude, and victory are words associated with that card. Hawkins gives a small nod as he slips the card into a random spot in the deck and sets the cards back in their spot on his dresser. Today will be much better than he had hoped. Of course, it won't be fun, but it'll still be a productive day, and Hawkins supposes that's what counts in the end.

So Hawkins begins preparing for a day in the office as he normally would, brushing the tangles out of his hair and changing the ring in his eyebrow to a simple stud. He strips off his flannel pants and tosses them into his laundry basket before pulling on a pair of simple slacks, a button down shirt and a tie. It's as he's pulling on his shoes that Hawkins' phone rings with a familiar irritating and loud ringtone. It's the ringtone that Apoo personally chose for himself in Hawkins' phone.

Hawkins shoots a glare towards his phone. In all honesty, he doesn't want to answer the phone simply because he's annoyed with Apoo for announcing their 'relationship' on social media. But, on the other hand, Hawkins knows that the Silent Treatment is meant for children and it's far too immature for adults like themselves. So with a reluctant sigh, Hawkins finishes tying his shoes and stands up before walking back over to his bedside table so he can pull his phone off the charger and answer it.

"Yes, Apoo, how can I help you?" Hawkins' voice is a bit colder than normal as he pushes some hair out of his face. He considers calling it a lazy day and wearing his glasses instead of his contacts, but given that the press and Apoo's fans - as well as Hawkins' coworkers - were already trying to dig into their love life, they'd take Hawkins wearing his glasses as a sign that he slept over at Apoo's apartment the night before. He waits for Apoo to respond as he strides over to his bathroom counter to put in his normal contacts.

There's a sheepish laugh on the other end of the phone and Hawkins can practically _hear_ the author sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. "Ouch, that's an awful mean tone to take with me, sweetheart. Then again, I guess I kinda deserve it this time." Apoo's statement is punctuated with a self-deprecating sigh. "Look, Hawkins, I'm so sorry about this. I didn't know that the press would jump on this. I thought-"

"'A few people.'" Hawkins cuts the voice on the other end of the phone off quickly. "That is who you said you were telling last night. 'A few people.'" Apoo begins to respond, but Hawkins isn't finished talking. "What, dare I ask, made you think that posting your status on Facebook was a good idea?" Hawkins’ words come out sharp and bitten and he knows it. He almost feels bad for how that must feel to Apoo, since they’ve never fought before. But this isn’t so much of a fight as it is discussing a very distinct problem in their ‘relationship,’ so Hawkins decides he doesn’t feel guilty in the least.

Hawkins’ words pull another heavy sigh from the author, this one sounding even more guilt-ridden. _‘As he should feel guilty, given what he’s done,’_ Hawkins thinks as his lips pull deeper into the curl of his scowl. “I know,” Apoo says ruefully. “I know, trust me. I just got carried away, I guess. But that’s not an excuse and I know that. I-... I don’t know what else to say.” Apoo trails off with the same hangdog tone, his words cut off by a short huff of weak, sorry laughter. 

There’s a few seconds of awkward silence before Apoo speaks up again, even quieter and more contrite than before. “If you want to cut this off early, I wouldn’t blame you. Hell, I kinda expect you to at this point.” 

“Tch.” Hawkins clicks his tongue against his teeth and shakes his head. “Don’t put words in my mouth, Apoo. I can’t say that I’m pleased by the situation, and you’re lucky I’m not going to end this ‘trial period’ right now.” Though Hawkins’ voice is still sharp as a knife, it’s beginning to thaw out from the icy coldness it had only a few minutes prior.

There’s a stunned, sputtered response of, “Y-You’re not? Really?” Hawkins can practically hear the way Apoo holds his breath in anticipation. It almost draws a laugh from the tarot reader. Almost. He’s not going to let Apoo think he’s off the hook, because he certainly is _not._

Instead he replies with a simple, “I’m not. Not yet, at least. You did something I don’t like, yes, but if this relationship is supposed to seem real, this would be a natural development.” Which is a thought that brings Hawkins’ hand up to his head so he can try to soothe the headache starting in his temples by rubbing at it. “I would have appreciated if you had told me about this before you had done it, but what’s done is done and cannot be changed.”

The first response Hawkins can hear from the other end of the phone is a shaky, relieved laugh. “That… That’s really good to hear. I’m glad you’re taking this so well.” Apoo laughs again, a bit steadier this time. “I was really worried you’d want to call everything off at this point.”

Hawkins rolls his eyes as he walks out of his bedroom and into the nearby kitchen to start making some half-decent coffee. “No, I don’t want that yet. I want to see how you do writing romance, and I’m not going to sabotage that over a simple mistake.” Hawkins pours some water into the coffee machine and sets a thermos down for the coffee to be poured into. “That being said, you’re not completely off the hook.”

“Right, right. Didn’t expect anything less from you,” Apoo says, a smile evident just from the sound of his voice. “So what is it you want me to do for you?”

“Hm… Now that seems to be the question at hand, doesn’t it?” Hawkins, despite his bad mood, feels a smile twitch at one corner of his mouth. He thinks for a minute before he realizes the time and decides that he won’t have time to make lunch before work. It’s decided, then. “Bring me lunch and I’ll consider it water under the bridge.”

There’s a pause before Apoo asks, “That’s it? That’s all you want?” He’s obviously confused, but he doesn’t sound opposed to the idea. That’s good, because Hawkins doesn’t want to have to skip lunch while he’s at work. “I mean, I can do that, but is that really all you want?”

Hawkins fastens the lid on his thermos before grabbing his messenger bag with his laptop. “Yes, that is all. Now I need to go into the office today, so I’d appreciate it if you could bring it up there,” He says as he grabs his keys and heads towards the door.

“Yeah, sure, that sounds good. I’ll see you up there around twelve. Sound good?” 

“Perfect,” Hawkins responds easily as he locks the door behind him before heading to his car. “I’ll see you then.”

“Awesome. See you later, babe.”

“Goodbye, dear.”

  
  


The first thing Hawkins notices when he walks through the front door of his workplace is that Law, Shachi and Penguin, three other editors, are standing next to Hawkins’ desk. Hawkins has to keep himself from groaning as he sees them. If he were a lesser man, the blonde would have turned around and walked right back out of the building and set this off for another day. Unfortunately for Hawkins, he is not a lesser man, so he calmly strides over to his desk, into the lion’s den.

(Trafalgar D. Water Law is a surgeon who also works as an editor for Eustass Kidd, an action and adventure writer with a temper that only Law himself can handle. Kidd had been one of the authors that Hawkins turned down before Apoo came into the picture. It was ironic; Hawkins had been annoyed at something Law had done earlier that week, so he turned Kidd in Law’s direction, expecting the doctor to come out of the situation annoyed. Much to Hawkins’ further annoyment, Law had come out of the situation with a now bestselling author. Hawkins should’ve read his tarot cards before having those two meet up. He’s sure they could be his downfall if they work together.)

(Penguin is an editor who handles a writer with the pseudonym ‘Killer.’ Well, it’s _possibly_ a pseudonym, but no one really knows him besides Penguin and Kidd. Even Law and Shachi, Penguin’s best friends, doesn’t know much about the historical fiction/romance writer. Penguin, as anyone can tell you, is good at keeping secrets. One of his greatest secrets is how he manages to edit all of Killer’s books on time; the novelist is very productive and has several series out that do fairly well. Killer may not have a huge following for one series like Kidd or Apoo, but the mysterious writer has a decently sized fanbase. Apparently, Penguin also does a lot of peer reviewing on medical papers.)

(Shachi is an editor for several different new authors. Right now, he has a few authors he edits for. It’s hard to say where he finds the time to get to all of them, especially given that he currently has four authors. But, given the fact that he always has an energy drink on him, Hawkins would bet that he gets a lot of editing done at the sacrifice of his sleep. He, like Law and Penguin, is also involved in the medical field. If Hawkins has head correctly, he also does a lot of peer reviewing and research.)

(Altogether, they’re very smart and very cunning. And very annoying pains in the ass.)

“Law. Penguin. Shachi.” He greets each of the other editors with a small nod of his head. As soon as the first syllable of their names falls from Hawkins’ lips, wide smirks fall in place on their faces. Per usual, He can’t see Penguin or Shachi’s eyes behind their respective hat and sunglasses, but he knows that they have the same wicked gleam in their eyes as Law has in his.

“Hey there, Hawkins!” Shachi chirps far too loudly for the quiet of the office. “How’re you doing this fine morning?” He laughs before he raises his energy drink to his lips and takes a long swig. Today’s flavor is something along the lines of cotton candy. Shachi is always more obnoxious on the days he drinks this flavor, and Hawkins should know; he checked with his cards.

It’s hard not to roll his eyes, but Hawkins manages. He walks over to stand by his desk as he sets his messenger bag and his thermos on the wooden surface. “It’s been fine,” He says stiffly as he pulls his laptop and opens it so he can turn it on.

Law cocks an eyebrow and nods as he leans against Hawkin’s desk. His tattooed fingers reach out to push the laptop closed again. “Oh, has it now? Well, that’s good.” His deep voice is calm, but Hawkins can see the cunning that lurks beneath the surface of Law’s neutral facade. His dark eyes move up to meet the tarot reader’s. “Because it’s been very, _very_ busy for all of us.”

“Oh? And why’s that?” Hawkins has a bad feeling he already knows.

“Oh, it’s not much,” Penguin says with a false ease as he smiles lightly from under the brim of his baseball cap. “It’s just, you know, all the _press that has been showing up at the goddamn door.”_ Penguin’s false normal, jovial tone gradually fades into a cold deadpan. He crosses his arms as a scowl makes its way onto his mouth.

“We can’t say we enjoy that,” Law agrees with a nod as his carefree smirk drops into a frown. “But more than that, we don’t enjoy that you didn’t tell us that you and Scratchmen-ya are in a relationship.” Law’s expression drops a bit more, less into one of anger and more into one of disappointment. “Really, I thought we were friends, Hawkins-ya. Why didn’t you tell us you were interested in him, let alone _dating_ him?” Law asks, his usually confident expression one of concern. Honestly, it sets Hawkins more at ease to know that his friends were going to be emotionally involved, rather than just treat this as cheap gossip.

The blonde editor sighs as he closes his eyes and takes a minute to compose himself. “I didn’t tell you I was interested in him because I’m distinctly not. And we aren’t dating. Not in any true sense, anyway,” Hawkins explains. Of course, it doesn’t come across as an explanation to the other men, who simply blink at Hawkins and wait for more explanation.

“Hey, Hawkins? What exactly does that _mean?”_ Penguin asks, now very confused and very much wanting to know what the _hell_ is going on. “Care to explain?”

Next to him, Shachi seems to have forgotten about the drink in his hand. He sets the neon-colored aluminum can on Hawkins’ desk as he raises his hands to clasp over his mouth. “Hawkins… I don’t know exactly what you’re about to say, but I’m getting a feeling that whatever it is, it’s not good,” Shachi mutters from between his fingers as he glances to all three of the other editors.

Law nods, meeting Shachi’s concerned look with one of his own before he looks back to Hawkins. “I have to agree with them on this one. Just what are you trying to tell us, Hawkins-ya?”

“Well,” Hawkins starts almost matter-of-factly as he evenly returns the slightly worried gazes, “Apoo wants to try writing a romance novel, but he hasn’t had a romantic relationship in a considerable amount of time. As you all know, Apoo has been romantically interested in me for a while, but I have previously turned him down. However, he proposed something he calls a ‘trial period,’ which will allow me to see what being in a relationship entails while he has the opportunity to write a convincing relationship. It will only last the duration of two months, though I have the ability to call it off whenever I please.”

Throughout the entire explanation, all three of the other men’s eyes grow wide. It’s a good thing Shachi set his drink down, or he would’ve dropped it. Law had to push himself off of Hawkins’ desk to stand up straight as he blinks a few times. Penguin is simply slack-jawed.

Shachi groans as his hands rub at his eyes from under his sunglasses. “Oh _no,_ I was right! It’s bad, it’s a bad idea, it’s so bad,” He laments as he weakly shakes his head. He continues to mutter under his breath about what a bad idea this is. “Oh, no, no, _no!”_

On the other hand, Penguin is completely speechless, his mouth hanging open as he grasps for words that he can’t seem to find. “Ha-… Wha-... Why would… I’m… Oh holy hell, Hawkins,” He settles on as he looks to Law for some help in explaining how bad of an idea this is. 

Law is silent as he stares blankly at the tarot reader. His arms are still crossed and he gives the same expression that he does when he’s thinking. “So… a ‘trial period,’” Law states with no emotion in his voice whatsoever. He nods to himself a few times. “Okay. That’s… not a bad idea, in the long run. I can see how that’ll work.”

Immediately, Shachi and Penguin stop in their actions and look up at the other man. “What?” Shachi asks in disbelief. Penguin just gives Law and Hawkins a long-suffering look as he just rasps out a weak, ‘why?’ 

Law shrugs as his trademark smirk makes its way back onto his face. “I just have a hunch that it won’t be all that bad. It’s a pretty good plan. Scratchmen-ya thought this through pretty well, though two months may be too short of a time. You might want to talk to him about extending the ‘trial period.’”

Hawkins nods to the doctor. “I just might. Though I think you are considering that we should lengthen the period for all the wrong reasons. I’m not interested in Apoo in a romantic way-”

“Which is why it’s such a bad idea!” Shachi exclaims as he throws his hands up in exasperation. “You’re leading him on!”

The blonde man shakes his head, calm and collected as ever. “On the contrary. He is the one who laid out the terms, so he knows what this entails. We both agree to these conditions and will comply by them.”

There’s a moment of silence between all of them before Penguin’s cell phone rings. He pulls it out of his pocket to check the caller’s identity. “It’s Killer. I better take this.” They all nod at Penguin’s words and he begins to walk away to find somewhere quiet to take the call. Before he leaves, he looks back at Hawkins and a weary sigh falls from Penguin’s lips as he shakes his head. “Hawkins, you’re one of my best friends, but you can be a cold bastard.”

The words kind of shock Hawkins. Is he doing something wrong? He doesn’t believe so. But, even out of context, Hawkins knows that Penguin is right, so he offers the hatted man a subtle nod as Penguin walks away.

The next to leave is Shachi. “I better be getting to work, too.” Shachi shakes his head as he fixes Hawkins with a look from behind his sunglasses. “Honestly, I’m not sure this is going to work, but you’re our friend and we’ll support you. Just… don’t break his heart. He’s a good guy, and he really cares about you,” Shachi says quietly before he purses his lips and shakes his head. “Just go easy on him.” 

“I will,” Hawkins promises. For a second, he feels a pang of guilt as he remembers all the times he bluntly shot Apoo down. He quickly pushes the feeling out of his head and out of his heart as Shachi walks away.

And then it’s only Law and Hawkins. The tarot reader shoots a glance to the dark-haired man. “And you, Law? What are your thoughts on this?” He asks as he picks up his thermos and takes a long drink. His headache is quickly returning and Hawkins already wants to go home.

Law draws in a breath through his teeth as he shakes his head. “This is a mess of a situation, Hawkins-ya. I don’t quite know what to say. You’ve rendered me speechless. Congratulations.” He chuckles lowly as he looks up at Hawkins.

A faint grin twitches at the corners of Hawkin’s mouth. “Well, that doesn’t happen often. Perhaps I should’ve done this sooner.”

“I wouldn’t say that. Hell, even doing it _now_ is risky and - on your part - morally questionable,” Law says with his normal confidence before his face settles into something more serious. “But, honestly? This is either going to be great, or absolutely devastating. And if it’s devastating… Well, you’ll only have yourself to blame.” 

Hawkins nods in agreement. “I aree, and I know-”

“No, I don’t think you do.” Law cuts him off with a shake of his head and a grimace. “Actually, I _know_ you don’t. You don’t have a damn clue, and that’s the biggest damn problem with this shitshow. I’ll be honest with you, that’s one of the things about you that I absolutely can’t stand,” Law’s solemn expression is quickly becoming a glare as he continues. “And the worst part of it is that if I _tell_ you what the problem is, it’ll never solve itself. You’re going to have to figure it out for yourself.”

Then Law stops talking, leaving both of them to think in silence. Hawkins’ eyebrows draw together as he tries to understand what Law is talking about. “I… think I understand how you feel when I try to explain things.” He admits as he blinks at the shorter man. “What do you mean? What problem is there with the situation? We’ve thought everything out and planned it well.”

“No.” Law shakes his head as he lets out a frustrated huff. _“Apoo_ has thought everything out. _You_ didn’t think through _anything.”_ The dark-haired man shakes his head as he sighs and begins to make his way back to his own desk. “You know what? I’m just going to talk to him. I need to see what he has to say on this. You,” He looks back at the blonde, “You need to sort your shit out and quit being so damn heartless.” 

“Well Apoo is bringing me lunch in a few hours, and you can speak to him then.” Law only nods at Hawkins’ words before he’s gone.

The blonde man blinks to himself before he sits down at his desk. Absentmindedly, he begins to set everything up for his work day. His mind is elsewhere. _‘Heartless?’_ Hawkins thinks, hurt by the single word (though he’d never admit it). He’s never really thought of himself as such. Analytical? Yes. Practical? Yes. Introverted? Yes. All those things and more. But heartless...? He can’t say that word has ever come to mind… Luckily, a text notification snaps Hawkins out of his thoughts.

**[Text from: Scratchmen Apoo]:** hey babe<3 still on 4 lunch?

A small smile twitches at Hawkins lips as he sees that it’s from Apoo. He unlocks his phone before responding, smile still on place.

**[Text to: Scratchmen Apoo]:** Of course, love. And Law says he would like to speak to you while you’re here.

**[Text from: Scratchmen Apoo]:** yeah he texted me. i’ll talk to him at some point.

**[Text from: Scratchmen Apoo]:** but mainly i want to see u <3

A light breath of laughter falls past Hawkins’ smiling lips before he replies.

**[Text to: Scratchmen Apoo]:** And you will. I’ll see you in a few hours.

  
**[Text from: Scratchmen Apoo]:** see u soon<3


	6. Day 2 Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! Alright, now some people have wondered what Apoo's clothes are, since we've heard about Hawkins', so here's a website of clothes in Apoo's style: https://vapor95.com/
> 
> Alright, there's that and have fun!

**[Text to: My Weakness <3]: ** hey hawkins y r there so many people outside your work?

**[Text from: My Weakness <3]: ** They’re reporters, and I’m sure you can guess why they are here.

**[Text to: My Weakness <3]: ** o shit

**[Text to: My Weakness <3]: ** im soooo sorry

**[Text to: My Weakness <3]: ** i didnt know it was this bad

**[Text from: My Weakness <3]: ** Tell that to Law; he’s the one who is at least keeping them outside of the building.

**[Text to: My Weakness <3]:** yeah, i’ll thank him when i get inside

**[Text from: My Weakness <3]: ** He will appreciate that. You have the key for the back door, yes?

**[Text to: My Weakness <3]: ** yeah. be there soon <3

**[Text from: My Weakness <3]: ** I’ll see you after Law is done with you.

**[Text to: My Weakness <3]: ** shouldnt i bring u ur lunch first

**[Text from: My Weakness <3]: ** Just put it in the fridge while you talk to him.

**[Text to: My Weakness <3]:** u got it! See you after i talk 2 law!

  
  
  


Apoo pulls winces as he catches sight of all the reporters and journalists at the front door of the studio. It must’ve been absolute havoc when Law got there this morning. Shit, Apoo feels bad about this situation. He really should’ve warned Hawkins that he was going to do this. Hell, it probably would’ve been better to not do anything social-media related with their relationship, but he was half-asleep and completely giddy with how the first day of their relationship had gone, and he’d been so happy that he wanted to share the news with everyone he could!

“Shit, this is a mess,” He murmurs to himself. He just hopes only he and Hawkins know about the ‘trial period.’ He pulls the hood of his brightly colored hoodie up and tucks his messy ponytail into it as best he can before he pushes glasses further up on his nose. He grabs the take-out bag next to him before casting one last glance at the crowd at the front door.  _ ‘Yeah, I really better take the back door. Thank God Hawkins gave me that key for the back door. Good thinking ahead on his part.’  _ And of course, thinking about Hawkins brings a smile to his face that he couldn’t force away if he wanted to. And honestly, he doesn’t want to.

With one last glance to the crowd of reporters at the front door, Apoo pulls the keys out of his car and quietly opens the door, take-out bag in hand. Carefully, he steps out of the car and closes the door, keeping his eyes on the crowd at the front door to make sure they don’t see him. He shuts the door as silently as possible, wincing at the muted noise it makes. Thankfully, the noise is so commonplace that none of the reporters look over at Apoo because they’re so focused on looking through the tinted windows of the building in an attempt to take a guess as to which one of the editors is the infamous Basil Hawkins. Apoo scoffs and shakes his head at them as he locks his car; they’ll never be able to guess that the gothic man is actually the one who edits Apoo’s colorful and vivid fantasy stories.

Apoo keeps his head ducked as he walks to the brick building’s back door. For not the first time ever, the author is thankful for the back entrance that helps him avoid the crowd of reporters that are usually looking for him after he publishes another book or part of a series. Well, he supposes, today they’re probably only looking for Apoo so he can point out Hawkins.  _ ‘Sucks for them. I’ve already pissed him off, and it’s completely my fault. Like  _ **_hell_ ** _ am I going to do anything else that upsets him,’  _ Apoo thinks with a frown as he pulls his hood farther over his face and tries to sneak closer to the door.

Thankfully, the distance between Apoo’s car and the door is short and the Longarm is at the door within about twenty-five seconds. He puts the key in the lock, turns it, and pushes it open. With a relieved sigh at not being caught, he steps inside the building. His relief at nearly being caught evaporates suddenly as he finds Eustass Kidd standing right in front of him, arms crossed and smirking. “So. Heard ye pure fucked up,” Kidd remarks, his wicked grin only growing wider as Apoo pushes his hood back down and scowls at the redhead. When Apoo’s lips purse and he doesn’t respond, Kidd lets out a loud cackle. “Oh god, ‘at was a shite move. Yer a dumbshit,” Kidd says between hyena-like howls of laughter. 

Apoo rolls his eyes with a fierce frown. “Yeah, trust me, I am well aware that what I did was stupid. I’m just lucky that Hawkins didn’t call off our deal yet.” Apoo finishes with a noise that’s some cross between a sigh and a groan as he reaches up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “I just-”

The shorter man holds up a hand to stop Apoo from continuing that sentence. (Honestly, Apoo is kind of glad he does, because he’s not sure what he’s going to say.) “Hauld oan,” Kidd says, effectively cutting off Apoo’s voice with his own. “Whit ‘deal’ are ye talkin’ abit?” He fixes the other man with a look that can only be described as an angry-inquisitive sneer. And oh  _ goddamn,  _ but Apoo wants to say something to get rid of the smug look off of Kidd’s face, but he’s about to tell Kidd what’s really going on and that expression is only going to get worse and Apoo knows it.

A heavy sigh forces its way up from the taller man’s throat as he drops his hand from his face back to his side. His glare - a harsh expression - goes weaker with tiredness and exhaustion at the mere prediction of the day he’s about to have. It’s going to be a really shitty day, and he knows it, so he doesn’t want to bicker and argue with the other author today. He tries to step to the side and past Kidd as he says, “It’s complicated. Listen, I need to go talk to Law and go see Hawkins-”

“Oh, nae ya dorn’t!” Kidd hollers fiercely as he steps to the side, blocking Apoo’s path again. “Yer gonnae tell me whit’s goin’ oan! Whit the fuck dae ye mean ‘deal?!’” Kidd asks as loud as he ever is, drawing the attention of some people walking by in the main area of the building, which is just at the other end of the hall. Lucky for Apoo, one of those people is Trafalgar Law, and the other is Penguin, both of whom are very sick of the petty bickering and fighting that the two get into whenever they see each other.

Both men exchange a tired glance. (Well, as much as possible, given that Penguin’s baseball hat still casts a shadow over his eyes. But Law knows Penguin well enough that he can feel the exasperation in Penguin’s entire being.) Law shrugs and chuckles as Penguin shakes his head with a sigh. “What are we going to do with them?” The doctor asks with a lazy grin. 

Penguin reaches up to adjust his hat even further over his eyes as he remarks, “Separate them and hope for the best, I guess. I’ll handle Kidd. Got some questions for him about Killer’s latest story anyway. Besides, you need to talk to Scratchmen, yeah?” He asks with a jerk of his head to the author in question. 

Law nods slowly before he raises his mug of coffee to his lips and takes a long drink. “Yeah. I need to grill him on what the fuck was going through his head when he made this godawful deal with Hawkins-ya,” He says coolly and calmly, ever Kidd’s exact opposite in everything he does. “But I do want to know,” He says as turns his head to better look at Penguin so he can examine his friend’s body language, “What is it about Killer’s new story that has you needing to ask Kidd-ya questions about the writer himself? I’m aware that they’re childhood friends, but why is there something you can’t just ask Killer-ya himself?” Law asks as his lazy grin turns into a sly smirk as he watches for his friend’s reaction.

Penguin is quiet for a second, looking straight ahead at the pettily bickering authors rather than at Law. He knows that his body language is going to give away his emotions on what he’s about to say. “Recently, Killer added something to an earlier chapter. A love letter from the main character to the love interest. He told me it was from something else and he just wanted to repurpose it since it wouldn’t fit in the other thing he was using it for,” Penguin says slowly, trying to delay Law’s inevitable reaction. “He did control-F to search and replace the names, and I thought ‘That’s great. That’ll work.’ But the thing is… When you control-F, it doesn’t work on misspelled words, and I found one word that he didn’t catch. One word spelled ‘p-n-g-u-i-n.”

Immediately, the surgeon’s dark eyes light up with mischief as he turns and looks at Penguin head on. “Oh?” He asks, and Penguin nearly groans at the tone in Law’s voice. “And I suppose that little spelling error comes after a rather delicate statement?” Law asks, though it’s less of a question and more of a statement of ‘I  _ bet _ it that little spelling error comes after a rather  _ delicate  _ statement.’

A heavy sigh falls from Penguin’s lips as he reluctantly admits, “Not as ‘delicate’ as your thinking, but still pretty ‘delicate.’ It was… You know what? I’ll just tell you later. It’s a sensitive matter, and there’s too many people here right now.” Penguin decides with a nod towards the front of the building, where reporters are still crowded like pets waiting for scraps under a table.

“A good idea, ” Law agrees with a subtle nod. “We can go back to my place after work and you can tell me there.” A loud yell of an insult from Kidd to Apoo draws both of the editors’ attention. A returned, equally loud insult from Apoo to Kidd draws sigh from both Law and Penguin. He looks over to Penguin, his amused but tired grin is back in place as he asks, “Should we stop them now?”

“CHEW MAH BANGER, YA NUMPTY!”

“EAT SHIT AND FUCK OFF, KIDD!”

Penguin draws a deep inhale through his nose before letting it pass between his lips. He nods slowly, almost tiredly, as he says, “Yeah, we really should.” He steps forward a bit and calls out for the redhead. “Kidd, I need to talk to you!”

The author turns around at the sound of his name but glares when he sees that Penguin and Law are standing there, Law smug and laughing at the quarrelling authors. “Whit is it? Ah’m tryan tae-”

“We need to talk about Killer.” Penguin cuts Kidd off, his mouth set in a grim line. “It’s… important.”

Kidd seems to understand the seriousness of the situation - at least to some degree - because his expression immediately goes from a scowl to a curious expression. He steps away from Apoo and turns his body to face Penguin. “Yeah? Whit aboot Killer? Somethin’ wrong wi’ his story?”

The moment of silence that Penguin gives before responding makes Kidd’s mouth twitch in what is safe to assume is nervousness. “In a way, yes. It’s something I found  _ in _ the story, at least. I would appreciate your help in telling me what something means.” Kidd nods without saying anything and both him and Penguin make their way to the editor’s desk.

Law watches the leave, curious about Kidd’s slightly nervous expression, before he turns back to the Longarm.“Scratchmen-ya, over here,” He calls, keeping his voice fairly quiet because it’s a small building and unlike  _ some people _ (read: Scratchmen and Kidd), Law doesn’t want to yell. (He also doesn’t want to yell because it still feels early. Hell, he’s still fucking tired after yesterday’s procedure. He doesn’t do a crazy amount of operations, since he’s a specialist, but yesterday’s had been an emergency operation and they’d called him in in the early afternoon and he was there until late in the night. Now, he’s just tired, but his work as an editor is relaxing, so he decided to come in today before going home for a long nap, some food, and then sleep for a  _ long _ time.)

Almost startled, Apoo’s gaze turns from Penguin and Kidd to Law. He offers the surgeon a sheepish smile as he walks closer to the editor. “Hey, Law! Sorry about that, it was just, well, you know Kidd.” He laughs. 

The sound too loud and it makes Law wince a bit, but given Apoo’s powers, he can’t blame him for being a bit harsh on the ears. He offers the other author a smile that’s more tired than lazy as he replies. “Afternoon, Apoo. Let’s go to the break room; it’ll be easier to talk in there.” When the author catches up to him, they both begin walking toward the break room. 

Apoo is confused as to why they’re walking in the opposite direction of all the editors’ desks, but he supposes it’s for the best that they’re going to the break room. After all, he needs to put Hawkins’ salad in the fridge anyway. He glances at the dark-haired man out of the corner of his eye. “So what is it you wanted to talk to me about?” Apoo asks, trying not to let his nervousness show in his voice. He doesn’t know why, but Law needing to have a ‘talk’ with him is more than a bit nervous. He and Law are friends, but it’s a new friendship, and whenever someone says, ‘I need to talk to you,’ it’s never good.

Law pushes the door to the break room open as he glances back at Apoo. “Just come in here and I’ll tell you.” He gestures towards the table before taking a seat in one of the chairs. His face is guarded as ever and it kinda makes Apoo nervous; Law usually has an easy grin or a tired frown or a glare (usually at Kidd), so seeing him with a poker face is a bit unnerving.

“Yeah, sure.” Apoo nods as he puts the take-out bag in the fridge. It’s a long, silent, awkward moment before he turns and takes a seat at the table. Of course, it’s still awkward when he sits down, since Law doesn’t start talking when he does. “Soooo…” Apoo says slowly, trying to prompt Law into speaking. Of course, it doesn’t work and Law remains silent as he stares into his now mostly cold cup of coffee. Apoo clears his throat before asking, “What is it you wanted to talk about?”

A weary exhale falls from Law’s lips as he looks up at the author. “What is your plan, Scratchmen-ya?” His voice is almost monotone with a tired edge to it. It seems like the bags under his eyes become more visible as he speaks. “What exactly are you planning to have happen with this plan?”

Nervous laughter meets Law’s questions almost as soon as they leave the surgeon’s lips. “Well, how much of the ‘plan’ do you know?” He asks. Contrary to what he’d wanted before he’d walked into the building this morning, Apoo really hopes that Hawkins already explained everything. “What has Hawkins told you?”

“Everything that he knows from his end of the deal. But what I need to know is why you’re doing this.” Law’s expression is stoic as he shakes his head. “Because it seems like a really good way to get your hopes up before your heart gets broken.” 

Apoo laughs a bit as he sheepishly rubs the back of his neck and averts his eyes by looking to the side. Oh, there’s a calender on the fridge. Well, Apoo already knew that, but it’s on a different month now. He can vaguely make out Hawkins’ cursive amongst Shachi’s brightly colored scrawlings, Law’s messy writing, and Penguin’s bright blue chicken scratch. “You know, I was just thinking that it’d be fun!” He says. His answer wasn’t completely honest, but it’s definitely not a lie either.

Law’s lips twitch downward and his eyes narrow ever so slightly, though the bags under his eyes make the expression look more tired than serious. “Scratchmen-ya, cut the bullshit. I just need to know the truth. Why did you suggest something that’s only going to end up hurting you?”

Apoo’s smile stays in place for only a few more seconds before it flutters and finally falls into a tragic downward curve. His usually upbeat body language turns into a defeated slouch, his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. “Honestly, Law? I just… I had to do  _ something. _ I had to at least  _ try. _ Nothing else has been working and I… It was a desperate move, I know, but it’s either this or keep on leaving with these feelings and I’m not sure I can do that for much longer,” Apoo explains, hopelessness and despair evident in his voice. He sits back up and pushes his glasses back up on his nose as he shakes his head softly. He looks back up at Law with an expression so open and raw that the surgeon nearly flinches. “It’s just getting too hard to do this anymore, you know? I… I didn’t know what else I could do.”

The break room’s clock ticks loudly in the room as Law nods, slow and silent and reserved but understanding. His finger taps against the side of his mug, the coffee inside now cold and disgusting. His eyes focus on the dark pool of liquid, watching the ripples his tapping against the ceramic mug causes. The fifteen seconds of silence that pass between them feels more like fifteen minutes. Then, at long last, Law finally opens his mouth to speak.

“I guess I can’t really blame you for that,” Law says, a disappointed frown still on his lips. “I know you’ve wanted Hawkins for a while. You’ve admired him as a writer since before you even met him. Hell, he’s the only reason you decided to come here, right? Because you knew he worked here and you didn’t want anyone else as your editor?” Law’s statements are phrased as questions, so Apoo feels obligated to nod. Thankfully, Law is still talking, so he doesn’t have to verbally respond yet. “God, you’ve been in love with him for fucking  _ years, _ Apoo. You’ve asked him out so many times, and been rejected just as many times. Until… now.” Law cuts off his own thoughts with those last two words. “Until now,” He repeats slowly, letting his own words sink into his mind as his eyes go a bit wider. 

Apoo nods, a slight, small, crooked smile making its way onto his face. “Until now,” He repeats back in return, already knowing what’s going through Law’s mind. 

Dark brown eyes blink at Apoo before a surprised huff of laughter works its way out of the surgeon’s throat. “You… clever bastard. I don’t know how the hell you did it. I mean, I know how you did it, but I don’t know how you knew it would work.” Law looks back up at Apoo with a disbelieving but amused expression. Apoo can almost see some pride in the shine in Law’s eyes. “How  _ did _ you know that now would be the right time to ask this question?”

Apoo shrugs with false nonchalance as his grin twitches into a smirk. “Well, I didn’t. I just took a guess that Hawkins would be pleased to see me write romance, and when he responded to me saying that, I knew the trial period would work. It was a calculated risk.” He leans back in his chair as he grins mischievously. “Smart, right?”

“So you didn’t even have a plot in mind when you proposed this whole deal to Hawkins-ya?” Law asks, still surprised at Apoo’s cunning plan that he apparently made on the spot. He finally lets go of his coffee mug so he can cross his arms and lean back in his chair.

“Nope! Apapa!” Apoo chirps with a laugh. “Only had a few ideas for the main character and the love interest, and you’re gonna find those characters pretty familiar. Apapa!” The Longarm laughs heartily as he watches for Law’s reaction.

After a short moment of shock, the dark-haired man begins laughs as well, a tired but deep and true sound. “I can’t believe that you did that. I can’t believe that you  _ managed _ to do that. That’s actually really funny, and really impressive.” Law shakes his head slowly as he grins and looks at Apoo. “You never cease to surprise and impress, Apoo. You hide your cleverness well, but it’s always a joy to see you show it in the most unexpected ways.”

“Apapapa! What can I say? I live to surprise” Apoo says with a grin as he adjusts the headphones around his neck. There’s a pause as both men let their chuckles die down into almost nothing before Apoo asks, “So, do you think it’ll work?” He watches Law carefully for a reaction.

Law’s lips pull into a lazy but confident smile and he says, “You know what? I’m not sure, but I really fucking hope so. If anyone can trick Hawkins-ya into falling in love, it’s you. I just hope that - for your sake - Hawkins-ya isn’t as coldhearted as he seems.” Law’s smile falters a bit at the edges as he says, “That being said, this really won’t be easy. Hawkins-ya is not the easiest person to get to react emotionally to anything. He can make friends, sure, but love? Well, I’ve never seen it happen before, and not for his past suitors’ lack of trying.” With a heavy sigh, Law lets himself put on a smile again. “But none of them have been as in love with him as you, so I’ll let you in on a little secret; all of us are routing for you. We have been for a while, so we’ll support you as best we can. Just… be careful. You’re a good guy, Scratchmen-ya, and we don’t want you to get hurt.”

Apoo’s grin grows as he listens to Law’s words. “I really appreciate your honesty, Law. And don’t worry, I’m gonna give this my all and make it work.” Apoo says as he gets up from his chair and moves to grab the take-out bag from the fridge. “Alright, now I’m gonna go eat lunch with him, unless you had something else you needed to tell me about?”

Law shakes his head with a light laugh and a smile. “Nope, you’re good to go. Now I gotta go ask Penguin what’s up with him and Killer.”

“Oh, now that’s a conversation I wanna be in on! Apapa!” Apoo says with a cackle.

Law smirks in return as he empties his mug out in the sink. “I’ll keep you up-to-date as I learn more.”

“Sweet! Apapapa! I’ll catch you later!”

“Sounds good. Now go woo that ice wizard.”

“Can do!”


	7. Day 2 Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's taken so long to update! I've just been so busy and I've been working on so many other fics! But I think I'll be working on this more again, so look forward to more content!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh! I made some spotify playlists for this fic, too! One for Hawkins and one for Apoo!  
> Apoo: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5IBKFy5t18eRm7J86e1FlJ?si=AcCWJjThQLeAiE7w6jZSkA  
> Hawkins: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0jIkHZJkFCrby66kU8t57b?si=FL88fmtmQISXdZj230oJKg

Plastic take-out bag in hand, Apoo hums a lively song under his breath as he makes his way over to Hawkins’ desk. Subconsciously, the humming morphs into soft singing as he makes his way down the hall, uncaring of any strange looks he might receive from any authors or editors that might see him. Thankfully, he doesn’t get many looks because most of the people at the company are used to his strange behaviour. Of course, Apoo hardly even notices the looks because he’s too focused on getting to see his boyfriend again.

Damn. ‘Boyfriend.’ Apoo likes the sound of that. Boyfriend. Boyfriend, boyfriend,  _ boyfriend.  _ Yeah, he really likes the sound of that. Hawkins is Apoo’s boyfriend, and Apoo is Hawkins’ boyfriend. Oh yeah, that sounds  _ right,  _ sounds perfect in every way. The smile on Apoo’s face grows by a noticeable fraction as he takes a left into the hallway that leads to Hawkins’ work area. Correction: to his  _ boyfriend’s _ work area. Yep, still sounds good. More than good, even! Amazing, fantastic, awesome!

So lost in his happy-go-lucky thoughts of ‘boyfriend’, Apoo almost doesn’t notice that he nearly passes Hawkins’ desk. The only reason he remembers to stop at his editor’s desk - and not continue aimlessly wondering through the halls as he imagines Hawkins with every lyric to every love song - is because his eyes catch the sight of long, blond hair reflecting light as deft hands pull it up into a bun. Apoo pauses to watch Hawkins put his hair up, trying to figure out how the hell Hawkins is able to pull his hair into such a neat bun. Seriously! Apoo’s hair is longer than his editor’s, but Apoo has  _ never _ managed to pull his hair up in such a clean style. At best, the author can manage a semi-neat braid that trails down his back.

What snaps Apoo out of his trance is the sound of Hawkins’ hands moving back to his laptop’s keyboard. His hands fly over the keys, typing something that Apoo can’t quite see. Apoo stands still for just a second longer before he feels a certain urge that he wants to act upon. Without taking the time to mentally think out what words go with this urge, the author decides that he wants to carry out whatever this whim is. No fear of consequences in his mind, Apoo walks over to Hawkins' desk and comes to stand quietly behind the author before putting his free hand on Hawkins’ shoulder and leaning down to press a soft, chaste kiss to the bare skin of the back of Hawkins' neck. 

Immediately, the sound of keys clacking stops and Hawkins' body goes tense as the warmth of Apoo's lips sinks into his skin. Apoo can both hear  _ and  _ feel the shorter man draw in a deep inhale, presumably to steady himself and to hide his surprise. Apoo finds that he really likes being able to feel Hawkins’ reactions, especially like this, with his lips pressed to Hawkins’ skin. Intimate, in a way, without needing to be sexual. Though Apoo certainly wouldn’t  _ mind- _

“Oh, it’s you. Hello, Apoo,” Hawkins says, his voice calm and collected as ever despite the kiss the writer has pressed - is still pressing - to his cervical vertebrae. He doesn’t turn around, just tilts his head slightly and glances over his shoulder at Apoo. His fingers move back to their position over the keys, but he doesn’t yet begin typing. Apoo can’t help but notice that the blond looks like a pianist getting ready to play a song. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he remembers someone telling him that most people who were good at typing would also make good musicians due to the control they have over their fingers. He vaguely wonders if anyone ever told Hawkins the same. Maybe Hawkins knows how to play the piano. If he doesn’t, maybe Apoo could teach him. That would make Apoo  _ incredibly  _ happy.

But Apoo pushes his distracting thoughts out of his head as he pulls his head away from Hawkins’ neck so he can beam at his ‘boyfriend.’ “Heeeey, babe! I finished my chat with Law!” he crows gleefully before winking as he adds, “Love what you did with your hair! And I brought lunch, like ya asked. Got ya your salad, hold the tomatoes.” The author pushes himself back up to his full height. He steps to stand beside Hawkins, setting the plastic bag down on the blond’s desk before glancing around for another chair.

“Ah, thank you,” Hawkins says softly as he pushes his laptop to rest between them, leaving enough space on either side of the laptop for them to put their to-go boxes. He reaches into the bag and pulls out the box on top and a fork, opening it to find that it was his. He tries not to smile when he finds that Apoo got his order exactly right. It’s normal for them to get their orders right - they work together out of the office so often and they get each other’s food almost as much, so it’s expected that Apoo would get his order right. It’s not something that should make Hawkins smile, but it still does.

Having spotted another chair, Apoo smiles at the editor as he drags the chair next to Hawkins’ desk. He smiles as he replies with a pleasant, “No problem, sweetheart.” He takes his own food out of the bag before tossing the bag in the trash can next to Hawkins’ desk. He opens it and takes out half of his sandwich before turning back to the editor, who is already beginning to eat his salad. Apoo can’t help but smile at Hawkins again.

Hawkins looks up from his salad to find Apoo staring again. Apoo has been doing that a lot lately, and now Hawkins knows it’s because of the author’s affections for him. Still, there’s a saying about assuming, so he tries not to assume and instead just ask Apoo what is causing the fond stare from purple eyes. He finishes chewing his salad and swallows before turning to meet Apoo’s gaze head on. The wide grin on Apoo’s face only grows as his eyes meet Hawkins’. “Is there something you needed, Apoo?” he asks as he spears more lettuce and vegetables onto his fork. “You’re staring at me.”

Apoo shrugs, grin never fading as he replies. “I just really like the way you look with your hair pulled up like that. It looks really nice.” He takes a bite of his sandwich, chewing it and swallowing before adding, “It really shows off your face. Not that I don’t like your hair, but I feel like it’s in your face a lot and I don’t really get to see your,” Apoo gestures to the sides of his own face, fingers broadly indicating the area from his temples to his jaw. “Ya know? Not to mention that I think that buns look pretty cool.”

There’s a moment of silence as Hawkins slowly chews his salad, trying to figure out what Apoo is saying. His brows are drawn in confusion as he tries to figure out a way to respond. He finally thinks of one as he swallows his food. “I do not think that my hairstyle has much of an impact on my appearance. I just wear it differently to suit different conditions,” Hawkins explains, though his expression doesn’t change. “And I do not know why you think it’s impressive to wear my hair like this. It’s a pretty simple bun.” He doesn’t even have to use a hairpin to keep it up. It took less than a minute to do. He hadn’t even looked up a tutorial to learn how to do it the first time he put his hair up like this; he’d just taken a guess and hoped it looked alright.

And again, Apoo shrugs in response before adding, “Eh. I think it still looks good on you.” He glances at the neat hairstyle again. It didn’t look too complicated, but Apoo was sure he wouldn’t be able to do it without a thorough walk through. “And I’ve never known how to do them, so I guess I just wouldn’t know where to start on doing them.” He takes another bite of his sandwich as he leans back in the chair, crossing one leg over the other as he watches Hawkins.

The editor glances at the author’s long hair, one of his eyebrows arching in response. “You’ve never learned how to do a simple bun?” he asks, less confused and more puzzled. Surely he’s seen Apoo with his hair pulled up in a fashion similar to Hawkins’ current style? But, looking back on it now, Hawkins realizes he hasn’t. “But your hair-”

“-Is really hella long, I know.” Apoo cuts him off with a knowing smile. “Yeah, but I never really looked up how to style it. Some college friends taught me to braid it, but that’s about all I ever bothered to learn.” He takes another bite of his sandwich. “Not to mention, a bun would probably look a bit odd on me, so I’m not too sure I’ll ever really use the knowledge, even if I have it.”

Hawkins considers this for a moment before turning back to his food. He works on getting another bite onto his fork as he responds with, “Hm. Still, it’s not a bad piece of information to have, especially with all the strong winds that will be blowing when winter comes around.” He raises his fork to his mouth, about to take a bite. But before he does, he adds, “Not to mention, I’m still curious to see what you’d look like with your hair pulled up.” He takes a bite of his salad as he looks back at his laptop. His bright red eyes scan over a few lines before he sets his fork down and begins to backspace all of the lines that he read.

_ ‘He wants to see... what I look like with my hair pulled up?’  _ Apoo pauses mid-chew, blinking a few times before swallowing.  _ ‘I know he doesn’t mean it as a pick up line, but it kinda sounds like he’s trying some sort of pick up line on me. Now that would be a real dream come true.’  _ But, even though he knows it isn’t some discreet chat-up, he lets his lips pull into a wide grin as he winks at Hawkins. “I mean, I would be happy to show you what I look like with my hair pulled up like yours, buuuut I don’t know how to do my hair like that. If only,” he says, not at all subtle as he leans towards the blond, “ _ Someone _ could teach me how to do my hair.” He grins cheekily, but thinks for a second before adding. “Or, ya know, just do it for me, since I really don’t think I could do it.”

The sound of Hawkins’ fingers on the keys don’t pause as he glances at Apoo out of the corner of his eye. He shakes his head with a sigh as he looks back to the laptop. “Perhaps we can try styling your hair after I finish my work here. We can go back to my apartment to work on the story, and I’ll  _ attempt _ to show you how to pull your hair up properly, though I doubt you will learn what I am trying to show you.” His own words cause a faint smirk to pull at his lips, though he quickly hides it.

But Apoo still sees the good-natured smirk, and it makes a grin appear on his own lips as he puts a hand to his chest and lets out an exaggerated choking noise. “Oh! I am killed! The fair beauty has slain me!” He wails, though he tries to mind the volume of the working editors and authors around them. He pretends to struggle before slumping in his chair, his tongue lolling out of his mouth as his eyes close. 

Hawkins doesn’t spare him a glance until a couple minutes after the act has passed, and the only reason he even bothers to look at him is because Apoo’s dedication to the act isn’t wavering. When he sees that Apoo hasn’t even shifted from the final position of his short show, Hawkins looks back to his computer. He’s not going to reward such childish actions with a question, a statement or even a simple call of Apoo’s name. Instead, he tries to focus on finishing the boring report of Apoo’s newest story. 

After the third minute of no reaction, Apoo peaks one eye open to look at Hawkins. When he finds that the shorter man is still typing away at his computer, he lets out an agonized groan and slumps further into his chair. He hears no reaction from Hawkins besides a quiet sigh and the continued clacking of keys. Apoo gives him a few seconds to respond, but Hawkins again has no reaction.

_ ‘C’mon, Hawkins! You’re my boyfriend, you’re supposed to react when I do stupid but cute stuff like this! Then again, he may not have any idea that this kind of stuff is normal in a relationship… Should I tell him?’  _ Though he doesn’t move from his ‘defeated’ position, Apoo pulls his tongue back in his mouth and opens his eyes to look at Hawkins. The editor doesn’t look back, but Apoo can see the clench of Hawkins’ jaw and knows that the blond is paying attention to him in that he’s trying  _ not _ to pay attention to him.  _ ‘Rude!’ _ Apoo thinks with a pout. “Hawwwkiiins!” He drawls as he uses on foot to push as the side of Hawkins’ wheeled desk chair.

When his chair is pushed to the side by a few inches, Hawkins draws in a slow inhale before blowing it out through his lips. He doesn’t reward the other man’s words with a response. He simply moves the chair back to its original position before continuing to type out his response to his higher ups.

“Hawwwwwwkiiiiins!” Apoo repeats, drawing it out even longer for more affect. He waits a second before pushing at Hawkins’ chair again. It draws him a sharp look from Hawkins, but nothing more than the editor pushing his seat back into the position it had just been move them.  _ ‘Oh, come on! Hawkins! I’m being funny and cute! … I think he really doesn’t understand what I’m trying to do.’ _ Apoo crosses his arms as he pokes Hawkins in the side with the toe of his shoe. “Haaaawwwwwkiiiii-”

“What?” Hawkins finally snaps, turning his head to glare at the writer. His hands stop typing as he waits for an explanation.

_ ‘Finally!’ _ Apoo nearly rejoices as he gets a reaction from the other, but he holds back a grin as he puts on a pout. “Isn’t the fair beauty going to offer to revive me with a kiss?” He asks as if it’s obvious what Hawkins is supposed to do in this situation. And in his mind, it is. At least, he’s seen this in the movies. Maybe this doesn’t work in the real world?  _ ‘Oh, shit, maybe I should’ve thought about that before I decided to try it…’ _

But, much to Apoo’s surprise, Hawkins rolls his eyes and sighs before holding his hand out as he looks back to his laptop’s screen. When Apoo only blinks at him in surprise, Hawkins uses his outheld hand to make a ‘give it here’ gesture. Apoo tilts his head in confusion, still blinking at Hawkins because with exactly is Hawkins trying to tell him. “Your hand,” Hawkins tells him, clearly thinking that his nonverbal directions are obvious enough for Apoo to understand. 

Confused but curious, Apoo lifts one of his hands and slowly places it inside of Hawkins’ palm as he watches the blond’s face to make sure he’s doing the right thing. It turns out that he is, because once the blond feels the weight of Apoo’s hand in his own, he lifts Apoo’s hand to his mouth and presses a chaste kiss to rough knuckles. After less than three seconds, Hawkins releases his hold on Apoo’s hand, letting it drop back to Apoo’s side.

Apoo remains silent as he watches Hawkins’ motions, the author’s cheeks flushing pink as his eyes go wide, before the sudden moment affection is over and Hawkins’ is completely focused on his laptop once more. It’s nothing special or world shattering, but it still takes a few seconds for Apoo to gather himself afterwards. However, once he does, a bright smile makes its way onto his face and he pulls himself up in his chair as he cheerfully declares, “And I am revived! The fair beauty has given me another day to live! My luck and charm serves me well!” 

Purple eyes dart over to Hawkins to find that, despite the unamused look in Hawkins’ eyes as he continues working on his laptop, there’s a small smile just barely beginning to form on his lips. Though he thinks about continuing to sing his editor’s praises, Apoo decides not to press his luck anymore and just enjoy the faint grin he’s earned. 

The author pushes his chair over next to Hawkins, throwing his own empty to-go box in the trash can as before looking at the long email that Hawkins is typing out to explain Apoo’s story. He looks over the long paragraphs, trying to figure out what Hawkins is telling the people that publish his stories. “Soooo… What’s all this?” Apoo asks as he gestures to the long body of text with a tilt of his head as he wraps an arm around Hawkins’ shoulders.

Hawkins accepts the warm weight along his shoulders with no complaint, allowing Apoo to pull their chairs closer together in the process. The editor nods towards the laptop in the same way Apoo had only seconds earlier as he says,  _ “This  _ is the email I need to send to the publishers so they can approve of the story. They’ve already approved of the general concept, but now I’m sending them the details we have, which is why it’s so long.” Hawkins continues typing before his fingers come to a sudden halt. He stares straight ahead at the screen before looking at Apoo, his eyebrows drawn together as if he’s trying to remember something. “What rating did we say the story was going to be?” 

“Uh…” Apoo’s expression changes until it reflects Hawkins’ as he tries to think. He racks his brain as he slowly says, “I think… we said… that it would be…” As hard as the author tries to remember, he can’t seem to find a memory in his brain of him assigning a rating to the story. “Huh. I guess we haven’t said yet.” He shrugs lackadaisically before asking, “Why? Do they need to know that today?” Deciding on a rating makes him nervous; it’s like he’s telling Hawkins that either yes, he wants sex from their trial relationship, or no, he doesn’t. Either way, not a great thing to ask in this kind of context.

Somehow, Hawkins’ bun remains in place even as he nods. “They do, yes. So what did you think the rating should be?” Hawkins asks, his eyes locked on Apoo’s own as his fingers tap on the desk while he waits for Apoo’s response. He’s having the same thoughts; whatever the writer says now will have an impact on their relationship. After all, that’s why Hawkins agreed to this ‘relationship’ in the first place - because Apoo needed experience in a relationship to write a love story that accurately depicts a developing couple. (That’s the reason he agreed, right? That’s why he’s doing this? Right?) 

So in both of their minds, they both have the same two answers and what those answers mean. If Apoo says ‘young adult’ right now, they will continue in their relationship as is, nothing changing besides more sweet words and more non-sexual touches. If Apoo says ‘adult,’ their relationship may - may, not is required to, but very well could - grow more mature in nature to the point they have physical relations.

Silence fills the small space between them as Apoo thinks about how he should respond. Despite how is mind is sent scrambling by the question, his eyes remain locked on Hawkins’. He can see a faint hint of curiosity in the blond’s eyes. Curiosity, but no disgust. And it’s that lack of disgust that prompts Apoo to not simply shut down the idea of saying ‘adult,’ and instead tell Hawkins his true thoughts on the matter.

“I was kinda thinking that it would be an adult book, but you’re helping me write this, so I wanna know what you’re thinking as far as rating,” Apoo says, his lips pulling into a smile that can only be described as nervous and soft but hopeful as he waits for Hawkins’ response. He keeps his arm as still as possible around Hawkins’ shoulders, keeping it loose enough that the editor could shrug it off if he wants to, but tight enough for Hawkins to know that Apoo is genuine in his affections and that he’s not saying any words lightly. He wants everything - the book, the choices in their relationship, and everything in between - to be an agreement between them, a choice made from both of their free wills.

Hawkins can’t hide the small smile that he allows onto his lips. In fact, he doesn’t even try to hide it as he nods once at Apoo’s words, thankful for the bluntness of them. “I think it should be an adult book as well,” he says as he quickly types out another sentence that will inform the publishers of the rating. After he puts a period on the end, he turns back to Apoo so he can add, “Given the topics that will be dealt with in the story and the characters themselves, it would make the most sense to make this an adult rating.”

And when their eyes meet again, both men know that they’re had the same thoughts and are comfortable with everything their words say without overtly saying. Apoo smiles brightly and Hawkins smiles back, though his own grin is much more subtle. “Alright!” Apoo announces as he claps his hands together. “Is that email the last thing you need to do today?”

Hawkins nods, adding a few words of parting while he does. “Yes, this is the last of the things I need to do while I’m here today.” He moves his cursor to hover over the ‘Send’ button, looking to Apoo so he can ask, “Does everything look alright?”

Apoo looks over all the information quickly before his grin grows and he says, “Yup! Looks great! Go ahead and send it and let’s get outta here and head back to your place! I wanna work on the story and have you teach me how to do cool stuff with my hair.” 

“Fine, fine.” Hawkins rolls his eyes, but he chuckles as he clicks the send button. “And now we’re done. Shall we go back to my place?” he asks even as he begins to pack up his laptop and charger. He also throws his trash into his trashcan and cleans his desk a bit, snagging one of his favorite pens from his desk and tucking it into his bad so he doesn’t forget it.

“Yup, yup, yup!” Apoo chirps, smiling as he and Hawkins make their way to the back door. “Let’s get going!”

“Alright, I will see you at my apartment in just a few minutes.” Hawkins says as he puts on his sunglasses.

“Sounds good! See you there, babe!” Apoo replies as he pulls his hood up over his face. “Miss you already!”

Hawkins rolls his eyes, but smiles softly in return as he opens the door to the parking lot and lets the two of them out so they can make their way to Hawkins’ apartment.


	8. Day 2 Part 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's.... a bit rushed. Sorry!

"Would you just  _ stay still?" _

"I  _ am _ staying still!"

Hawkins sharply clicks his tongue against his teeth as he runs the brush through Apoo's hair again. "I beg to differ," he replies coolly before trailing his fingers through Apoo's hair, carding through it to see if there’s any remaining knots. If he really is going to try and put Apoo’s hair up, he’s going to do it  _ right.  _ He glances up at his dresser mirror to see if he has Apoo’s hair pulled back as neatly as he’d like, but finds himself distracted by purple eyes meeting his own through the reflective surface. Hawkins stares back, a single eyebrow quirking as he bluntly states, “And again, you’re staring.”

Apoo shrugs, but tries to keep his head still so he’s not scolded by Hawkins again. “Can’t help it. You look good when you’re focused on something like you are right now,” He remarks as he brightly smiles at Hawkins’ reflection in a way that he hopes is charming. Judging by the way Hawkins rolls his eyes, however, he can tell that he hasn’t succeeded. After another second of waiting for a positive response and receiving none, he holds back a disappointed sigh as he pulls out his phone to check his notifications.

The first notification he sees is about an article published by  _ Red Line News _ with a headline that reads,  _ ‘Basil Hawkins: What We Know So Far’.  _ Just underneath the large, bolded headline, it declares that the article contains  _ ‘10 facts that you NEED to know about Scratchmen Apoo’s boyfriend.’  _ Apoo glances up at the mirror to see if Hawkins caught sight of the article. Much to his relief, Hawkins doesn’t seem to see the notification on Apoo’s phone as he’s still focused on trying to comb out the author’s long, wind-tangled hair.

Apoo glances back down at his phone to reread the headline once again. He almost swipes it off his screen, dismissing it to be forgotten forever in the endless void of the internet, but he stops. He can’t deny that the headline of the story has him curious. What  _ does _ the press know about Hawkins already? Do they know about his poetry? His blogs? His social media?  _ (‘Well, surely they must know about his social media by now,’  _ Apoo thinks offhandedly.) Wait… Do they know where Hawkins lives?!

And it’s the worry caused by that thought that makes Apoo unlock his phone and click on the notification, waiting anxiously as the article loads in his web browser. The second it does, Apoo scrolls through it, looking for any mentions of 'Basil Hawkins' address is-' or 'Basil Hawkins currently resides in-'. Thankfully, Apoo finds no such references and lets out a sigh, a physical manifestation of his relief. 

However, much to his dismay. Hawkins snaps out of his focus-trance long enough to let out an inquisitive hum. But apparently, despite his nonverbal question, Hawkins doesn’t feel the need to wait for an answer and instead just glances over to read the bold, large font of the article’s title. Even as Apoo tries to click away, he knows it’s too late and Hawkins has already seen the article.    
“Ah.” Comes the small, understanding response as Hawkins’ eyes move from the screen back to Apoo’s hair. His hands, however, never stop combing through Apoo’s hair, working it to a state of untangled-ness that Apoo himself only achieved on days where he wasn’t expected to be anywhere or see anyone. The writer might have found it impressive, if Apoo wasn’t currently waiting for Hawkins to coldly glare at Apoo and tell him that he never wanted to see him again.

But the cold storms of Basil Hawkins’ fury never come and throw the author to the ground in with raging wind. Instead, there’s simple acceptance on Hawkins’ regal features as Apoo watches the other man’s face in the glass of the mirror. He waits, expecting this quiet to be the calm before the storm. Despite expecting a change in Hawkins’ behavior, he still jumps when red eyes meet his own through their reflections. Apoo certainly didn’t expect to be  _ caught _ expecting a storm.

Again, no storm comes. Instead Hawkins just arches a brow before dipping his chin in a slight nod towards the phone. “Read it out loud,” He requests, though his deep voice makes it sound a bit more like an instruction or a demand. Apoo knows better than most that it isn’t true, but it doesn’t help in this situation. 

It takes a great deal of willpower for Apoo not to reach up and nervously rub at the back of his neck, but he doesn’t want to risk ruining Hawkins’ work and gaining his ire. “You uh… You want me to read it for ya?” He asks slowly as his fingers tap out a nervous rhythm on his knee. 

Hawkins’ reflection in the mirror nods as he takes a few sections of hair into one hand. “If you wouldn’t mind. I’m curious as to what they are saying about me,” Hawkins says calmly as he starts doing something with the sections of hair that Apoo can’t see, but that feels rather pleasant. “After all,” Hawkins continues, “Wouldn’t you be curious to see what they’ve supposedly dug up on you?”

“Oh, yeah. I see your point,” Apoo agrees as he looks back down at his phone. He remembers the first time he’d been written about - he’d practically been bouncing off the walls with excitement. Then again, given the circumstances, it only makes sense that Hawkins is a bit more reserved about how he feels about being written about. The thought threatens to make Apoo wince and more apologies to spill from his throat. Thankfully, the taller of the two men holds them back. Hawkins is easily annoyed by repeated sentiments, as Apoo has seen many times. Knowing that fact and knowing how these articles typically read, Apoo hypothesizes that Hawkins will be annoyed by this article very,  _ very _ quickly.

Contrary to his beliefs from only moments before, the title of the first subheading catches Apoo a bit off guard.  _ “‘Number ten,” _ Apoo begins slowly, trying to force the now blooming blush off of his cheeks. _ “‘Basil Hawkins used to be the vocalist of an alternative rock band.’” _ Oh. Oh,  _ dammit. _ Apoo didn't think that anyone would find out  _ that.  _ And If they know about that, then do they know about…?

Hawkins’ hands immediately stop in mid-motion, holding Apoo’s hair in a tight grip, but the hair is slack so it doesn’t pull against Apoo’s scalp. “Hn.” Hawkins is still for a second longer before his hands begin to move again, forming what Apoo can now tell is a braid. He thought Hawkins was going to teach him how to- Nevermind that. Apoo isn’t going to ask questions like that now. Right now, he is too busy waiting for a reaction that will tell him what Hawkins is thinking. He receives one when Hawkins continues on to say, “I wasn’t aware that they would do that much digging. My time as a musician was… quite a while ago."

Apoo nods in slow agreement. “Yeah, that was… some time ago. Not to call you old,” He quickly amends, glancing up at Hawkins to make sure his editor isn’t offended. “It’s just… been a few years since you’ve been in a band. Though not  _ too _ many-” 

“Don’t worry, Apoo” Hawkins interrupts with a wry grin as he curls a strand of Apoo’s hair and gives a gentle tug. The action convinces Apoo to tilt his head back so purple eyes meet red. Hawkins lets his grin fall into something more genuine for a split second before he releases his hold of the author’s hair. “I’m aware of what you were trying to say. Keep reading.”

A low chuckle bubbles up from Apoo’s throat at Hawkins’ Apoo clears his throat, looking back to his phone to read the rest of the paragraph. _ “'Basil Hawkins, Apoo’s longtime editor, was in a band during college and a few years after. What is the name of the band, you may ask?'” _ Hawkins snorts but doesn’t interrupt. Apoo smiles at the quiet sound as he continues to read the short paragraph under the subheading.  _ “'Why, it’s only ‘Savage Ritual!’” _ Apoo exclaims with false shock as he turns his expression into one of overexaggerated surprise. 

Hawkins rolls his eyes but chuckles softly at the face Apoo is making as he continues overlapping Apoo’s hair in a simple braid. It’s taking some time to do, since Apoo’s hair is much thicker and longer than his own. It’s a long process and Hawkins doesn’t rush it because he doesn’t want to have to start all over again. 

_ “'The band that’s rising to the top of the charts hasn’t said anything about their previous vocalist’s relationship, but from their old tweets and social media posts, we can tell that Basil left the band on good terms and is still very close with all members.'" _ Apoo finishes the sentence slowly before tilting his head back and looking up at Hawkins with a blatantly offended look. “Babe! Why didn’t you tell me you still talk to them?!”

Hawkins rolls his eyes before moving a hand to push Apoo’s head back into its original position. Though, of course, Apoo continues to glare, affronted, at the blond through the reflective surface in front of them. Hawkins continues moving sections of hair over sections of hair in that familiar pattern. "Because," Hawkins says with his usual cool calmness, "You would bother me for tickets to their shows at every opportunity, and undoubtedly bother them even more than you bother me." 

The movements of Hawkins' hands don't pause as Apoo gives an exaggerated gasp and lifts his hand to his chest in a falsely affronted action."Why, I would never!" he exclaims before a cheeky smile pulls itself onto his lips. "Why would I go bugging them when I have my lovely boyfriend to keep me in line?" Apoo winks at the editor's reflection, which only gives an unimpressed stare in return. The deadpan look makes Apoo chuckle as he continues to smile cheekily at Hawkins.

A low sigh falls from the blond's lips as his gaze moves back to the steadily forming braid in his hands. "Keep reading," he instructs in a quiet but firm voice as he gently tugs on Apoo's hair in an attempt to get him to focus. 

Hawkins' hands move in a soothing, hypnotic way that Apoo can't help but find soothing, even with the occasional tug or pull. Apoo could get used to this. He could  _ really _ get used to this. Maybe he could even return the favor. Now that would be nice - being able to run his fingers through the tarot reader's soft hair and make Hawkins feel as relaxed as Apoo feels right now. 

Apoo realizes belatedly that he's scrolled past the next paragraph as he's been thinking about how Hawkins' hair would feel under his fingers and how Hawkins would look as he relaxed and let his muscles unclench. A light blush coats Apoo's cheeks as he scrolls back to the top of the paragraph. Thankfully, Hawkins doesn't seem any the wiser about how Apoo's thoughts have drifted as the author clears his throat.  _ “‘Number nine, Basil was also the main songwriter for the band,’”  _ Apoo reads as his fingers tap against the side of his phone.  _ “‘He wrote some of their most popular songs, including their sensual love song, ‘Voodoo.’ With lyrics like ‘I feel your skin under my fingertips, Let me hear my name from your pretty lips’ and ‘Your body is mine to own until dawn, You’ll feel my touch on your skin after I’ve gone,’ it’s a wonder why he’s flown under the radar until now!’” _

Hawkins’ brows rise as he undoes an uneven section of Apoo’s braid so he can redo it. “Hn. You’d think they’d have forgotten about that song by now,” he comments as he picks up the comb again so he can run through a tangle in one of the sections of hair. “It’s several years old by now. Almost seven, yes?” He asks aloud, already knowing that Apoo will have the answer.

“Six, actually,” Apoo replies as he smiles at the memory of the first time he heard Hawkins’ smoky singing voice. It was one of the few times Apoo had been rendered breathless by a singer’s voice, and he’d immediately started asking around to find out who this mystery man and his band were. It had been the first time Apoo had heard of Hawkins, and he’d never forgotten that song. He still plays that song at least once a week just to hear Hawkins’ low, deep voice singing about touching his lover in the dead of night. But Hawkins doesn’t need to know that.

"Hm." Hawkins hums in acknowledgment as he looks up to the mirror to see how Apoo's hair looks so far. "I remember singing 'Voodoo' at a concert venue for the first time. It was quite a hit." 

A small laugh bubbles from Apoo's mouth as he tries not to nod in agreement with Hawkins' words. "God, I  _ bet. _ I would've paid a lot of good money to see you at that concert. I bet that 'Voodoo' sounded even better in person! I would give nearly anything to have been there." Apoo can only  _ imagine _ how good the band sounded and how well Hawkins' voice carried.

Hawkins chuckles lowly at the longing in Apoo's tone. "Oh, I don't doubt that you would," he replies with a teasing edge to his words "I'm simply happy that no one took the time to find the pictures from that night to include in this article. No doubt I'd be hearing about it from my coworkers for the rest of my days." He shakes his head, another small laugh working its way up from his throat at the memory of his old outfits.

Now  _ that _ immediately grabs Apoo's interest. He perks up in his seat as his eyes look over Hawkins' reflection while the other man continues to work on his hair. "Pictures?" He asks. "Whatcha mean?"

Hawkins doesn't look up, doesn't need to to know that now that Apoo's interested in these pictures and that Hawkins won't be able to escape the subject. He sighs; he should've known better than to say something like that out loud. "Well, 'Savage Ritual' is a rock band and we dressed accordingly. Leather pants, heavy boots, dark makeup and all."

Apoo doesn't need to hear another word before he's looking up a picture of the concert, typing in every key word he can think of that might bring up a picture. And sure enough, he finds one, and it makes him choke on his own spit as color rises high on his cheeks. He has to clear his throat before he rasps out a very unattractive and choked, "Holy  _ shit," _ because  _ damn _ does Hawkins look good in this picture.

The picture was taken from a decent angle, Hawkins in a 3/4s profile and the stage lights hitting him perfectly. The first thing Apoo notices is that Hawkins is not just shirtless, oh no, but he's wearing this black leather harness over his upper chest and  _ fuck _ , it's hot. And when Hawkins said 'leather pants,' he  _ meant it. _ They were skin tight and showed off  _ everything _ . Tall boots only emphasized his legs. Long blond hair, usually so neat and well-kept, looked almost sex-mussed in the picture, and the smudged black eyeliner had the same affect.

Apoo bookmarks the picture for later use.

"Oh?" Hawkins asks with an amused lilt in his voice. "Did you find a picture from the concert?" His hands never hesitate in their actions, even though he's looking over Apoo's shoulder to see what picture. 

Slowly and wordlessly, Apoo nods. His mouth is dry as he tries to think of something else, something besides how goddamn  _ sexy _ Hawkins looks in those clothes. If Apoo got on his knees and begged real nicely, would Hawkins wear something like that for him…?  _ ‘No! Don’t think that or I’m going to say something stupid!’ _

Hawkins cocks a brow as a faint smirk pulls at the corners of his lips. “Enjoying the view?”

“View?” Apoo repeats, mindlessly speaking despite his prior thoughts. “I mean, I’m enjoying the  _ picture, _ but I’m sure the real-life  **view** would be even better.” Apoo realizes what he’s said and freezes, eyes wide and waiting to feel Hawkins step away from him or huff angrily. He doesn’t dare glance over his shoulder for fear of seeing a disappointed expression on Hawkins’ face.

Instead, a low but light and amused laugh is what Apoo hears. “Perhaps, perhaps. But that’s for another day. If you’re lucky, that is.” Hawkins just says and reaches over and clicks away from the tab that has his own image on it before clicking back on the article with ‘10 facts that he NEEDS to know about Scratchmen Apoo’s boyfriend.’ “Please continue,” he requests calmly as he moves back to braiding Apoo’s hair in the same careful way he’d been doing.

The red of Apoo’s cheeks only grows more vibrant at the words ‘If you’re lucky.’ Is there a way to bribe his own luck, Apoo wonders. But he can consider that later. “Sure, babe,” he replies as he tries to forget the image of Hawkins in leather. He clears his throat before saying, _ “‘Number eight, Basil’s songwriting skills can most likely be attributed to his love for poetry. Basil’s skill with words is undoubtable, and we are swooning. It makes us wonder… Has Basil ever written a love poem for Scratchmen? We’re dying to know!’” _

Again, Hawkins laughs as he shakes head. “Oh, if only they knew the truth,” he remarks, “They would find out that my words are quite the opposite.” He realizes that he’s getting close to the end of Apoo’s braid and reaches for a hair tie, sliding it down onto his wrist before continuing his patterned movements.

Though he nods in agreement, Apoo finds his heart twisting uncomfortably at the truth of those words. In an attempt to ignore the way they sting at something deep and raw inside of him, the author rushes to continue reading.  _ “‘Speaking of poetry, that brings us to number seven, which is that Basil Hawkins has a book published with some of his best poetry. The book is titled ‘An Ocean of Tallgrass And Paper Ships,’ and it is an amazing read! It won a spot on several top ten books to read lists!”  _ Apoo finishes with a proud grin. There’s still a painful tightness in his chest, but it's less painful as he reads off the article. “Sweet! They actually mentioned your book!” He'd been so proud of Hawkins' book when it came out that he texted Hawkins a link to every list that put the book in the top ten, fifteen, fifty, or one hundred books to read. It had practically been a spam of URLs in Hawkins’ messages for weeks afterwards.

Hawkins nods absentmindedly as he grows closer to the end of Apoo’s braid. “I’m glad they’re at least speaking about my accomplishments and history rather than just reducing me to armpiece.” Hawkins’ tone isn’t cold, isn’t harsh or cutting, but the words he says speak for him. Apoo realizes that Hawkins had been expecting to being reduced to some lovesick editor for Apoo that the author had wooed from the day they met.

Oh how wrong they would have been. How wrong they still  _ are, _ thinking that him and Hawkins are actually dating. Apoo almost wishes he was in their shoes, in that sense.

“Hawkins, if any website I see actually does that and makes you seem any less amazing than you are, I will personally email them and tear them to shreds and ruin them in every way I can think of,” Apoo says with a genuine anger beginning to boil in his chest at the very thought of someone reducing Hawkins to less than he is. His mouth threatens to pull into a scowl at the idea, and he wants to turn off his phone and say ‘screw it’ to all of these articles that claim to know Hawkins when there’s no way Hawkins would so much as give them the time of day.

But, before Apoo can click the button and watch the screen go dark, he feels something soft and warm against his cheek, just below his cheekbone. It feels pleasant. More than pleasant, even. Apoo glances up in the mirror to find that what he hopes is true actually is. Hawkins’ lips are pressed to Apoo’s cheek in a chaste kiss, and, as Hawkins pulls back to stand up and use the hair tie to tie off the braid, Apoo hopes that the blond didn’t feel the sudden heat that rises up to the taller man’s cheeks. 

“I appreciate the thought, my dear,” Hawkins says with a faint hint of amusement in his low voice, “Though, for the sake of your reputation, I am going to advise you against it.” He chuckles, a deep, lovely sound, as he begins doing something with the braid that Apoo can’t see well enough to put a name to. “But I am thankful you’d go to such extreme lengths for me.”

A smile blooms on Apoo’s face as the author reaches a hand back to take Hawkins’ hand in his own, twining their fingers together. “Aw, c’mon, Hawkins,” he replies as he tilts his head back and smiles, upside down, at the shorter man. “You know I’d do anything for you, babe. If anyone says anything bad about you, I’ll definitely be pissed and want to take them down a peg.” He lifts their locked hands to his lips and presses a kiss to the back of Hawkins’ hand.

Hawkins’ gently untangles their hands and smiles subtly as he gently grips Apoo’s chin. “And while I appreciate that,” Hawkins repeats, his smile curving up a bit more at the edges, “You need to think about how your career would suffer from such an action.” He guides Apoo’s face forward again so he can continue trying to put Apoo’s hair up.

“I know, I know,” Apoo replies, the pain in his chest considerably lighter. He still has a month and twenty-nine days to win Hawkins’ heart, and he’s sure he can manage that. Especially given how Hawkins is so convincing in his role. “I just don’t like it when people talk bad about you.” It has happened before, and Apoo really tore into those bastards. Though Hawkins made him do it anonymously. But really, how dare they criticize Hawkins’ book?! Apoo simply  _ had _ to set them straight!

The subtle curve of Hawkins’ lips abruptly turns back down into their usual frown. “And I’m aware of that, but now that you’ve put us in the spotlight, we need to be careful about our actions, and you especially.” There’s a pause as Hawkins continues his unseen motions with Apoo’s hair before the editor adds, “Continue reading.”

Apoo nearly winces at how much colder Hawkins’ tone iss. He knows that it’s not actually a harsh tone, but after hearing Hawkins’ slightly warmer voice, his neutral tone seems almost cold. But Apoo doesn’t comment on it, instead just nods and says a quiet, “Yeah, sure.” He scrolls back through his phone to find where he had been _. “‘Number six is that, as well as his book, Basil also has a blog where he posts his poetry.’”  _ Well duh. Apoo had expected them to mention Hawkins’ social media, so this one seems obvious. Hawkins seems to have expected this one as well as hums simply hums and nods, not glancing up from Apoo’s hair as he continues working.

_ “‘As well as writing poems, fact number five is that Basil has a large impact on all of Scratchmen’s books,’” _ Apoo continues seamlessly, slowly scrolling down his phone to see more of the article.  _ “‘Scratchmen’s editor has been said to contribute to the author’s work in every step of the writing process, from research to planning to the actual writing! And, of course, the editing! Working with your boyfriend like that is such #baegoals!’” _

Hawkins disapprovingly clicks his tongue against his teeth as he reaches to grab something a couple bobby pins off the counter. “‘Bae goals?’” He repeats with a scoff. “I never liked that phrase.”

“Apapa! You, me, and everyone else who’s seen that tag far too many times,” Apoo replies with a laugh. “I wonder why places like this keep using it, it’s practically a dead term.” 

An exhale of amusement from Hawkins makes the author smile. “You’re certainly not wrong,” he says as he carefully pushes the pin into Apoo’s hair, fastening part of it in place. “What is the next one?”

_ “‘Now number four is a really sweet fact.’”  _ Apoo already knows what this one is going to be, and if he’s honest, he’s more than a little happy that he gets to point it out to Hawkins, since he’s not sure the editor ever noticed. _ “‘The way we learned about the impact Basil has on Scratchmen’s amazing works of literature? That’s an easy one! Through the loving notes he leaves he leaves at the beginning and end of every book! As pointed out by _ **_@DevilFroot_ ** _ on Twitter, he writes a letter to Basil in each and every novel he publishes! How swoon-worthy! _ ’ Oh wow, I’m surprised they noticed that.” Apoo grins, trying to subtly glance up at Hawkins to see the other man’s reaction.

Hawkins glances over Apoo’s shoulder curiously to find a link and a picture of the post he’d seen when he’d woken earlier in the morning. “Ah, yes, that one. I saw that one this morning, actually, though I did not have the time to read the letters in question,” he replies as he focuses on winding Apoo’s hair into a semi-decent bun. He would’ve done something simpler, had Apoo’s hair been shorter and less thick, but he doesn’t want to risk breaking hairbands or use too many bobby pins.

“Oh. You did?” Apoo asks, trying to hide his disappointment as he clinks on the link and looks through the tweet’s pictures. It’s funny, because he remembers writing each and every one, and he still means each and every word, maybe even more.

“Yes,” Hawkins replies simply as he adds the last pin to Apoo’s hair. He takes a step back to look at the elegant hairstyle before nodding approvingly at his handiwork. He sees Apoo’s shoulders droop a bit and, because he knows the other man so well, he knows it’s out of disappointment. For reasons he can’t explain, he feels a bit of painful guilt well up in his chest at the sight. He takes a step forward again, resting his hands on Apoo’s shoulders. He lets out a small chuckle as he feels Apoo tense under his hands. But Hawkins, rather than react in his normal and reserved manner, moves to lean against the counter so he can look Apoo in the eye. “And while I had not known about them before, I want to tell you that I appreciate them,” he tells Apoo in a quiet but not unwarm voice. “I want to take them to read them later so I can appreciate them. I just wish I had known about that sooner so I could thank you.”

A crooked smile slowly makes its way onto Apoo’s face as he looks up at Hawkins with that warm, fond look that Hawkins has seen several times before, but is still taken aback by. “That means more to me than you know, Hawkins,” he replies with a tone that Hawkins can’t quite place a word to, but he would call it some mix of sad and adoring. 

“I…” Hawkins doesn’t know how to respond because he knows Apoo is right. He doesn’t know what this means to Apoo, how much it pleases him. He won’t try to pretend to know; that would simply be disrespectful to Apoo and his feelings for Hawkins. So he does as much as he can - he smiles and moves his hand to gently cup Apoo’s cheek and says, “I am glad it pleases you.” And he truly means it.

Apoo’s smile grows as he leans into Hawkins’ touch, lifting one of his hands to hold Hawkins’ in place. For a moment, they just stay there, sharing a look that settles the seriousness of the situation. Then Apoo speaks up, voice quieter than normal as he holds up his phone and asks, “Can I take a picture of us together to use as my profile picture?”

Hawkins rolls his eyes and laughs softly as he nods. “I suppose it would only make sense.” He waits for Apoo to get to his phone’s camera as the taller man moves to stand by the blonde. Apoo wraps his arm around Hawkins’ shoulders and Hawkins leans into the touch without a second thought. It’s easy, natural, as if they’d done it many times before. Hawkins doesn’t mind it in the least, though it’s hard to say why.

Apoo smiles at the camera as he sets a three-second timer. “Alright, babe, smile for the camera!” 

Hawkins chuckles and pushes himself up onto his toes as the timer reaches ‘1’ and presses a kiss to the corner of Apoo’s mouth. He hears Apoo’s breathing stutter as the picture is finally taken. When Hawkins’ pulls back, Apoo is blushing as he looks at the picture on his phone. The picture looks good, though Apoo is clearly caught off guard. “That looks nice. I think it will work perfectly,” Hawkins says decidedly with a smile towards the author. “Now, shall we spend the rest of the day working on the outline?”

Apoo’s surprised expression melts into a smile as he nods. “Apapapa! Sounds like a wonderful idea!”


	9. Day 3 Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this is so late, I've just been very distracted lately and I'm having a hard time with focus. I promise I'll try harder to get stuff done earlier in the future! I hope you enjoy this really short, really shitty chapter until I can get more stuff done.

The next morning brings an abrupt waking for Apoo, who jolts awake as sunlight shines in from the window and throws itself over the room like an over-eager dog trying to jump into its owner’s arms. He throws a hand up to cover his eyes, only to realize that he never took his glasses off before he crashed into sleep and they now perch unevenly on the tip of his nose, mere seconds from falling off. He realizes that he must’ve forgot to take them off before he fell asleep at some point in the dark period between night and morning. What a shame, now the glass is smudged with his fingerprints.

As Apoo takes his glasses off to wipe them off on the hem of his now sleep-rumpled shirt, he feels the familiar and unpleasant aching that comes from falling asleep while still sitting up on the couch. A grimace pulls at the corners of his lips as he pushes his slightly less smudged glasses back onto the bridge of his nose, knowing that he’s going to have to deal with the annoying stiffness of his body for at least the rest of the day, if not tomorrow as well.

In an attempt to dull the strength of the uncomfortable pull of his muscles, Apoo gets to his feet and stretches his hands towards the ceiling. He lets his muscles pull and stretch as his mind begins to come out of its melatonin haze, and he glances around the room, trying to piece together what time it is and what’s going on. He finds that his laptop, as well as Hawkins’, have been closed and set onto the coffee table, most likely by Hawkins himself. Apoo smiles to himself; looks like Hawkins didn’t decide to dash out the door the second he woke up. That’s not a bad sign. ‘Not a bad sign at all,’ Apoo thinks to himself as he rubs the side of his neck. He doesn’t want to get his hopes up just yet, but he’s not sure he can help it. 

The sound of coffee brewing from the kitchen is what gives away the fact that Hawkins is still here, and Apoo grins as he makes his way towards his apartment’s kitchen. “Hawkins,” he calls out in what is meant to be a playful singsong, but is warped by the fact his voice is still scratchy from disuse. He clears his throat with a scratchy laugh as he finally steps onto the tile floor. “Morning, gorgeous! How’d you sleep?”

Hawkins turns to look at Apoo from where he’s pouring himself a cup of coffee into one of the mugs from Apoo’s cabinets. (One of Hawkins’ favorite mugs, though both men know better than to state that fact out loud. It’s one Apoo got the editor as a gift when he saw the simplistic design and was immediately reminded of Hawkins. It had made its way to Apoo’s apartment at some point, and neither man cared to move it back to Hawkins’.) Steam wafts off the top from the top of the darkly colored mug as Hawkins gently pushes it to the side. “Terribly, and yourself?” comes his simple, monotone reply. “Hand me a mug and I’ll pour you a cup.”

Another huff of amused laughter falls from Apoo’s lips as he moves to stand next to Hawkins. “That’s a very good way to put it. Ab-so-lute-ly  _ terribly.” _ He reaches up into the cabinet and picks up one of the many mugs before handing it to Hawkins to fill up. “Thank you,” he adds raspily, voice still not up to its normal volume just quite yet.

Hawkins hums shortly in response as he takes the mug from Apoo’s hand and sets in front of him. He steadies the cup with one hand while pouring with the other. There’s a few moments of peaceful silence between them as both pairs of tired eyes watch the dark liquid fill the cup. 

The still half-asleep state of Apoo’s mind and body causes his balance to falter for just a moment, but the moment is long enough for the author to bump into Hawkins. Rather than move away, Apoo decides to risk a little more and let his head rest on Hawkins’ shoulder as one of his arms drape around Hawkins’ hips. He even dares to let his hand bunch in the hem of Hawkins’ dress shirt, the stiff fabric rumpled from being slept in, and now from the curl of Apoo’s fingers. He feels the way Hawkins tenses under the touch, for just the slightest breath, before the firm lines of Hawkins’ figure relax into the touch and the blond reaches for his coffee. Apoo’s entire chest goes tense for a moment as he reaches for his own mug. 

A glance of red eyes towards Apoo and the mug is his hand is followed by a statement of, “You prefer your coffee with milk and sugar.” Hawkins adds nothing more to the short sentence, instead punctuating it with a sip of the hot beverage while looking at Apoo over the rim of the cup.

Though it isn’t phrased as a question, Apoo can hear the hint of inquisitiveness in the even tone. He simply shrugs and tells Hawkins, “I’m just not feeling like having milk and sugar today.” And while it’s not a  _ complete _ lie, it’s nowhere near the full truth. The entire reason he’s not ‘feeling like having milk and sugar today’ is because he doesn’t want to let go of Hawkins and risk that Hawkins won’t let Apoo hold him again. 

Hawkins doesn’t even grant Apoo the mercy of pretending that Apoo’s words are true. “A lie so early in the morning?” Hawkins remarks drily before he takes another sip of the bitter coffee. “I hope you don’t plan on making that a habit for the rest of the day.” His gaze, so clear and sharp, remains on Apoo, as if challenging the other man to deny his words.

Apoo lets out a small huff at the blunt statement of his true thoughts. “Well, we both clearly know what I’m thinking, but I was hoping you wouldn’t actually say it out loud,” he explains as his fingers continue to toy with the hem of Hawkins’ shirt. He cocks his head just a little, though in this position he can’t actually meet Hawkins’ eyes. “I just don’t wanna let go of you right now. If that means I drink bitter coffee, that’s fine by me.” And then, Apoo - feeling something akin to righteousness in the most romantic sense - lifts the mug to his lips before taking a small drink. Immediately, Apoo winces, nearly gagging at the taste. He tries to cover up his reaction as he swallows down the coffee, but he can tell that Hawkins didn’t even have to look to see it. 

A low breath of a chuckle floats past Hawkins’ lips as he watches Apoo raise the mug to his mouth again and take another drink. “If you despise the taste so much,” Hawkins says with a faint hint of amusement in his voice, “Then perhaps you should put in the milk and sugar, as you usually do.” 

“And lose this opportunity to hold you like this?” Apoo scoffs at the very thought. “Not a chance in hell, beautiful.” He proudly raises the mug to his lips again and takes a large mouthful of coffee in before immediately regretting that decision. He almost wants to spit it back out, but he resists the urge and instead chooses to grit his teeth and swallow down the bitter drink. He takes a moment to collect himself before he looks up back up to Hawkins with a tight smile. “See? Not too bad. I can drink it.”

Hawkins simply shakes his head and rolls his eyes as Apoo clearly tries not to cringe at the strong flavor on his tongue. “What a childish reaction,” he says as he lifts one hand to rest on Apoo’s hand on his hip and the other to pull the mug from Apoo’s grip. When Apoo tries to protest Hawkins’ actions, the editor simply shoots him a stern look and squeezes down on Apoo’s hand, the touch just bordering on a warning. Apoo relents and simply watches as Hawkins sets the taller man’s coffee down on the counter. “Fix your coffee, then come join me on the couch so we can continue working on the novel,” Hawkins tells him with an even tone as he turns around so he can clearly look at Apoo without the strange angle making it difficult to do so. 

Apoo’s lips pull into a frown as he holds tight to Hawkins, unwilling to let go quite yet. “Or,” he says as he tries to pull Hawkins closer, frown deepening when the other man holds his ground and doesn’t budge an inch, “We could just hang out right here for a while.”

Hawkins’ expression morphs into one of disinterested curiosity. “Oh? And what would we do while we just stand here? Stare out the window and count the seconds that pass?” He gives a nod of his head towards the window over the sink, which is currently overlooking a large construction site and some very busy roads. Not a very scenic view, in Hawkins’ opinion, and certainly not one he’d like to spend a great amount of time looking at.

The dry wit that Apoo has grown oh so fond of draws a light laugh from Apoo as he slides his now free hand to Hawkins’ other hip and takes a step closer. “I mean, we could if you want, but I was thinking we could do other things,” Apoo suggests in a peaceful but playful tone as he slides his hands up from Hawkins’ hips to his waist, the movement innocent besides the way it causes the dress shirt to ride up ever so slightly, just enough to reveal small slivers of skin on Hawkins’ hips. Apoo’s smile grows a bit when Hawkins sets down his half-full mug and crosses his arms across his chest.

“Oh?” Hawkins asks, his eyes regarding Apoo as he seems to consider his offer. “And what ‘other things’ were you thinking of?” He asks in his usual monotone voice. He can feel Apoo’s hands trying to tug him closer like the tide pulls small shells out to sea, but Hawkins refuses to be swayed by warm hands, a crooked smile and a promise of being able to wait to do work. There is still work that needs doing, and it’s better to have it done now rather than later.

Apoo’s smile, in all its strange charm, grows as Hawkins appears to indulge Apoo’s whims. “Well, I was thinking we could just talk and get to know each other more,” Apoo says as he takes another step closer to Hawkins, who is unfazed by the movements. “Maybe share a few stories,” he continues, trying to slyly slip in, “Maybe plan a few dates, maybe hug for a while, maybe kiss a bit.” Apoo smiles brightly, trying to hide his blatant attempts for some physical affection with an innocent look.

Hawkins simply stares up at Apoo for a moment before shaking his head. “We have work to get done today, Apoo,” he tells him. “And we can do all those things while working on the book.” Hawkins steps back, and Apoo lets him out of his grip as he takes the time to process the words the editor has just said to him.

“Wait…” Apoo says slowly, trying to figure out what Hawkins has just told him. “So we can do  _ all _ of those things while we work on the book?” He asks as he watches Hawkins pick up his own coffee and make his way back into the living room.

“Do not press your luck, Apoo,” Comes the monotone reply, but Apoo can’t help the rapid beating of his heart at the probability that lies within the vague wording. “Make your coffee and hurry up and join me.”

Apoo grins as he answers with a, “Sure thing, babe, be there in a second!” He moves over to the fridge and grabs the milk, pouring it into his drink as he hears Hawkins turning on both of their laptops. It’s as he’s stirring in a spoonful of sugar that he hears a quiet swear from Hawkins. “Something wrong?” Apoo calls out as he picks up his mug and takes it into the living room with him. He finds Hawkins glaring at his laptop and phone, a furrow between his tattooed brows and an angry twitch at the corners of his mouth. Apoo grows a bit worried as he sets his mug of coffee on the table and moves to sit next to Hawkins. “What’s up?” He asks as he tries to lean over to view Hawkins’ screen.

The problem, Apoo sees, is very,  _ very _ evident. Hawkins has his email pulled up on his laptop and his messages on his phone. Every email has a subject line with the word ‘interview’ in it, and every message begins with an introduction that has the word ‘reporter’ in it. “Oh,” Apoo says shortly as he watches Hawkins scroll through what looks to be at least forty emails in a row that have just been sent within the past fourteen hours. 

“Yes. ‘Oh.’” Hawkins lets out an annoyed breath as he turns his phone off and sets it to the side, leaving only the emails in front of him. “It appears that we are in rather high demand right now,” he says as he turns to look at Apoo with an accusatory stare. “Now I wonder just why that may be?”

Apoo offers the blond a sheepish smile as he tries to look anywhere but Hawkins’ eyes. “Heh. Yeah. I uh… I wonder…” He tries to play off his guilt with a laugh and feigned ignorance.

“Apoo,” Hawkins snaps in that strangely calm way of his. “We need to figure out what to do with this situation. Obviously we need to confront this matter as soon as possible. The sooner we tell people about our ‘relationship’, the sooner they will forget the whole ordeal and move on to the next piece of gossip.” Hawkins draws in a deep breath to calm his anger before he looks back at Apoo. “Perhaps we should do a few interviews with news outlets that we trust, so we can have the matter be over with.”

Nodding, Apoo has to agree that it’s a good idea. He just wants all this media stuff to be done with so he can get on with the work on this book, not to mention his relationship with Hawkins. “That sounds great,” he tells Hawkins with a smile. “Do you have any specific people or places in mind?”

Hawkins shakes his head in a quick, subtle movement. “Not yet. But it appears we have our choices to pick through. It looks like we can be a bit picky, if we want.” He gestures towards the laptop’s screen as he scrolls through the list of emails once again.

Apoo lets out a small chuckle at that. “It certainly looks like it. How about we go through all the emails and spend the first few hours of today working on that, then once we’ve narrowed down our list, we can get onto working on the book?”

Hawkins nods as Apoo picks up his own laptop from the table and moves to sit even closer to the editor. “That is a smart idea. Pull up your own email and we’ll go through all of the candidates.”

If Apoo happens to be sitting a little closer to Hawkins then necessary, neither of them complain. Not even when Hawkins’ ankle crosses over Apoo’s own when Hawkins gets a bit frustrated at the number of emails they have to go through.


End file.
